


Devil Devil Fruits

by Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot, Silver_Eternity



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blind Character, Imprisonment, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Mpreg Technically, Multi, Psychological Trauma, Torture, Trans Character, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 79,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3714022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot/pseuds/Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Eternity/pseuds/Silver_Eternity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doflamingo has a nasty secret, one he thought to keep hidden even from his closest nakama, but when the Marines turn on all Devil Fruit users, he discovers he's not the only one in Impel Down with a reason to fight back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second of my two fics for the OP Big Bang, and once again my wonderful partner was [Jenna](http://mah-blackberreh.tumblr.com) and her art for it is [here](http://mah-blackberreh.tumblr.com/post/116534224389/and-the-second-of-my-pics-for-curvyrainbowbois).
> 
> A few notes about this piece!
> 
> 1\. Croc is a transman, but for visualization sake and to convey how the world sees him in this fic the narrative will refer to him using she/her pronouns. Please look at context clues for how the people around him talk about him.  
> 2\. The Doflamingo in this is NOT CANON COMPLIANT. He and in fact the whole Donquixote Family is based on [Silva's](http://piratelorddoflamingo.tumblr.com) RP blog canon, which was written before the Pirate Alliance Arc when all we had were a few snippets of Doffy to go on. This goes on the idea that Don was a peace main pirate that lost his way, similar to Croc, after a childhood riddled with abuse and neglect and eventual slavery himself. As such please consider this part of the Canon Divergence of this AU.
> 
> Thank you and enjoy~!

"Toying with the government gets you nothing good, Doflamingo. Even if you are related to the Tenryuubito." The guard's voice was cruel, and the slam of the cell door echoed with finality the way the very sentence itself had replayed over and over and over again in the former warlord's mind.

The air was cloying and chilled, cooled by the floor above, and the shouts of other prisoners made a cacophony of noise that served to stir every pirate held captive in the infamous prison. The creak of pipes with barely held-back seawater rumbled ominously under the din, though  both failed to cover the sound of sharp footsteps approaching the sprawled form of the former King of Dressrosa. Too light to be male, but too sharp to be any female Don knew, the hands—no, hand—that reached down to grasp his shoulder was hard, calloused as though it had spent a long time performing manual labor. But there was a layer of malleability to it that told of years of soft life too. It was hard to tell the difference.

"C'mon, bird boy, up you get. I've someone who can help." Her voice was similarly hard, and a heavy coat of some kind of fur wrapped about the large blond man's shoulders smelling of arid heat and above all... sand.

OH. Oh god no, not him, not- not like this! He wasn't supposed to know; nobody was EVER supposed to know—

"Don't-don't waste, waste your time on me. Keep your coat- you get cold even easier than I do, you shouldn't."

But he couldn't resist how he buried his nose in the collar of the coat and inhaled deeply. His senses had started ratcheting up since the cuffs went on, but he was still very nearly helpless. And of all things, he didn't want THAT person to see him like this, not this way where his secret could be so easily uncovered.

"You'll be warm in a minute. Can you walk? They haven't fucked you up more than you already are right?" The fingers that had been on his shoulder now gripped his chin and turned his head from side to side, obviously she was inspecting him. "No head wounds that I can see."

The scent and chill of seastone brushed his cheek somewhere near her wrist, and she pulled it back before he could get a decent feel for what it was.

NO! His hand lashed out, sweeping until it found something to grab onto and he did, not knowing or caring what exactly he was clutching.

"I can probably walk. I'll stumble a lot but I can walk. It's been so long, I forgot how weak in the muscles you get after seastone is applied," he breathed quickly. "They knocked me around a little, but didn't fuck me up."

The form in front of him was still, solid as it only ever was under Haki or... seastone, but strong as always. There was a calculated silence. "I see."

There was something in her tone, something confirmed, and she made no move to remove the puppeteer's hand from her shoulder. In fact, she brought her own up to rest on it as she turned her back to him.

"Hold onto me and I'll guide you through the passages. It takes some getting used to, but after a few weeks you barely notice it anymore." That had the resigned and patient tone that Don was used to. She was biding her time for something, a plan of some sort.

"Ah, I'll um… Have to take your word on it," he said with a weak imitation of his usual laughter as he rose onto shaky, wobbly legs and let his eyes close.

It wasn't like they were any use to him anyways.

"Y'know the stupid thing? I didn't even do the thing they arrested me for. I've spent the last month lying low and quiet. So they hauled me in, for once, on charges I'm innocent of."

"They are particularly intrusive. All shichibukai have had their statuses revoked, and you will find multiple people here that you would not have expected. I'm sure you're aware that Magellan is no longer Warden. It has nothing to do with our escape before the War of the Best. There are... well, you'll see."

Her steps told the large man that they had passed through a hidden door, though when it had opened and closed was uncertain, and they were in the bowels of the prison.

"There are two rules you must follow at any cost before we enter the hidden level. One, do not antagonize anyone. I know, odd words to hear from me, but it is important to the success of everything. And two, people who were once your enemies are now your friends, and many who were once your friends are now your enemies. Your name will not save you, and nothing you have done up to this point will ever matter to the people we need to remove. So, don't even think about trying to double cross anyone. Even _them_."

That was frightening- no, that was TERRIFYING.

The status quo had all changed about. Allies and enemies… he didn't know which was which anymore—and he was fucking helpless thanks to the seastone.

He couldn't actually control himself well enough right now to keep that terror out of his voice when he replied softly, "Okay."

She stopped, and the feeling of warm air swirled at the edges of their senses. She turned and drew her hand down the side of his face, wiping away something liquid; blood, sweat, tears? He couldn't tell. Then she spoke, her voice soft, the tenor she only ever had used in the deepest of dark nights when she thought he was sleeping and couldn't hear her. "There is hope, Don. We're still more powerful than them, and we _will_ get out again. If public executions didn't stop people before, rounding us all up and locking us away won't do it either. Just... trust me."

"I do. You don't have to ask for that," he replied honestly, but he was still shaking, and so was his voice. "I'm just... everything went to Hell in a handbasket so fast."

And he didn't want to say it, but even his physical strength was almost useless without his strings to guide him.

The air about her settled, the opposite way it did when she reached out, and were it not for the seastone, the air would have become much, much dryer. She seemed to come to a decision though, and turned back around to lead him through the other door. This time as she did so, there was an exchange, mostly silent but for the subtle shift of space between two people. Then they were past, and it was much warmer. There was the sound of people milling about, several gasped, and a murmur rippled through what sounded like dozens of people.

"Oi! Back to it!" She growled, the voice of a leader snapping over their heads like a whip. "Kid, wh ere's Ivankov? He needs his hands free."

"Ivankov's off with his Okamas," the young male voice replied crankily. "They're 'recharging' him with food and drink and... I don't even wanna know what else. But I'll go get him." There was a sound of a bulky body heaving to its feet, a stutter- a stumble- before the heavy boots clomped away.

Don swallowed thickly. "They got Kid too? I thought he was in the New World already."

"More than Kid." The woman grumbled, her words aching for the comfort of a cigar by the way her tongue rolled in her mouth. She took a deep breath, "Fuck. If Ivankov's off 'recharging' then the only other option is _him_. C'mon."

She kept her hand on the newest member of their troupe, subtly guiding him in the direction she wanted to go. As they walked, her heels click-clacked on the stone floor, and the room grew a little cooler. There were murmurs raised behind them, and she twisted more than once to glare at the naysayers. Mostly there was disbelief, but also no small amount of wailing, a cry of hopelessness that if the great Donquixote Doflamingo could be caught, then what did that mean for the rest of them.

Don's sharp ears caught them all, and he winced a little lower with each comment. All it had taken was one seastone bullet to hit its mark and- it didn't matter he'd dodged hundreds, that he'd wiped out three base's worth of Marines, it didn't _matter_ he'd managed to evade the traitorous bastards for almost six months. All it took was one bullet while he tried to gain air, and he had been done for.

He wished they'd have let him drown.

"Ignore them, they're idiots." She growled under her breath, and stopped in front of what was obviously some sort of alcove from the way the air bent and flowed. "Mugiwara, where's your cook?"

Don flinched at the same time he bolted as upright as he could get. Strawhat was here?!

"Mmmmm..." The sound was drawn out, and definitely the Strawhat captain. "He can't take 'em all the way off..."

"I know, I remember the deal. Just get his hands free. I'd have gone to someone else, but they're busy." Croc snapped.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you cared for him, Mr. Zero."

The woman beside him tensed, so much so that she vibrated slightly under Don's touch, but said nothing as a new set of footsteps approached them both, the scent of tobacco and spices assaulting their senses.

"Think before you speak, Aly-chan. You've another two weeks to go before Ivankov will even think of changing you back." The person, much shorter than Don, seemed entirely too collected for the situation they were in, and his voice was smooth, like old Jazz from a dusty record. "The rules are simple. You are welcome to join our cause provided that you agree once we're out in the world again to fly Luffy's flag above yours. You'll be freed of your shackles, but because of how strong you are, you must retain a single seastone cuff to prevent you from thinking of double crossing us. Food, drink and amenities will be provided as we have them, with preference going to those who've been here longest and are most loyal to Luffy. For now, consider yourself lucky if you get an actual bed to sleep on and a blanket of your own. Other than that we expect everyone to be respectful. We're all in this together, and if any one of us wants to live to see the light of real daylight again, we need to work together."

"I think he gets the point, Mr. Prince." Croc growled again.

But Sanji pressed ahead anyway. "Are we clear?"

"As clear as one can be," Don replied slowly, and he really, really wished he could get both cuffs off. Maybe if he could find a rock shard sturdy enough to use as a lock pick.

It was clear enough to him that Crocodile had already made this deal. That being the case, he saw no other choice available but to respond in kind, and he took a deep breath, wincing when that aggravated his wound.

"...I'll take it."

So he had to start over, from the ground up. Fine. He could do that. If he could answer to and survive a Master when he was just nine, he could do it now. If nothing else, he knew that no worse could ever be done to him than he had already endured.

After this, he didn't think he had the heart to keep being a pirate anyway.

Assuming he even survived.

There was an exchange made silently between the chef and his captain that almost had the sand user stepping in again, but then Sanji exhaled as though he had a cigarette, "Put your hands out in front of you as far apart as you can hold them."

Don did, holding them perfectly straight, the powerful muscles in his arms bulged a bit as he pulled the chain between the cuffs to its maximum length, until it creaked a little. It hurt though, very badly, and it took only seconds for him to start to tremble.

Sanji wasted no effort on actually calling a name for the strike of his heel against the metal, but the sound was off. Even though the chain snapped, shattering up on side all the way into the cuff itself, there was no sound of a shoe hitting the ground afterward. In fact, the man's footsteps were entirely wrong, flapping against the stone like... he was barefoot. Croc didn't give Don a chance to explore it though, she stepped between the Strawhats and the puppetmaster, pulling his hands together to brush the crumbs of seastone off of his right wrist and drop the broken links of chain still trying to hold onto the left cuff to the ground.

"Aly-chan~!" Sanji's voice warbled in a facsimile of his usual over-exuberant affection. "You will join us for dinner won't you?"

On Don's wrist, Croc's hand tightened and her teeth ground together, but she managed to hiss, "Of course..."

"Of course, what? Aly-chan."

"Mr. Prince-san."

"Ah, such a delicate desert flower, if only you were always this way. Until tonight, beautiful Aly-chan~!"


	2. Chapter 2

Crocodile was shaking with suppressed rage, and she practically hauled Don by his wrists away from the twirling cook.

Don's voice rumbled and hissed with suppressed rage once they were out of earshot of the Strawhats- meaning Don couldn't hear THEM anymore so they surely would not hear him if he spoke quietly, and he was too angry for shouting.

He'd thought there was nothing more that could ever be done to hurt him- right up until a thought occurred as the words 'until tonight' burned their way into his brain asking _what'll happen tonight to make him so fucking excited?_

"Tell me he's not- what I'm afraid he means. Because I may have to break this alliance right now and kill him if he is."

"No. He just wants to fawn over me while I have tits. Fucking Okama-loving, idiot cook. He's as straight as I ah… usually am." Croc led him to another alcove, this one warmer than the last and smaller. "Home sweet hovel."

She brought her partner in and sat him down on what she'd made up for a bed, basically a metal sheet balanced over a couple of hot water pipes and covered in as many blankets as she could steal. It seemed she had been planning for his arrival for a while.

He sighed with relief, and then again when he was sitting down, pulling his beloved in close and nuzzling into her stomach. He could feel hard metal and blankets of all fabrics, already warmed under his behind, and he gave a weak little hum of appreciation. He appreciated the thought, but his heart hurt that Crocodile was even here. He couldn't imagine how the Marines found him- he'd been well hidden, hopping from island to island!

He breathed in deeply, taking in his- slightly changed- scent. "Hate to see you like this again."

"It's my fault. It was wearing off when they caught me. Ivankov was already here, so I either had to risk being discovered out there like this, or let them bring me in. But once they did... I... you know how I get when I'm like this." She pulled him in closer, the absence of her hook obvious now that she was holding him completely. "Then that blasted cook got wind of it. I mouthed off and Ivankov refused to change me back. But you, what about you? I knew they would come for you eventually, but Donny... Donny, why can't you see?"

His hands slid up the small of her back, smoothing over soft skin as he pushed his face further into her. He didn't want to answer that question, he didn't want to tell her- nobody was ever supposed to know, but especially not Croc!

"I meant in prison. I have nothing against this body except that which you hold against it."

She snorted, "Eh. This has been coming for a while."

Her voice was resigned, her guard dropped for the most part now that they were back in her alcove. It appeared to be an unspoken rule regarding the alcoves. Everybody's territory was theirs, and no one would bother anyone when they were within it. At least, that was what her body language and turn of phrase told her long-time lover.

"Humans can only handle something different for so long before they get to the point of not being able to tolerate it any longer. With so many of us and so few of them anymore, it was only a matter of time before they turned on us. But you're avoiding my question. What did they do to you, and why? Did it happen in your arrest?"

"...no." He swallowed thickly and it hurt to try and say this. "...this happened... a long time ago." He swallowed again and it clicked in his throat. "I've... I've always been blind."

"What do you mean you've always been blind?" Crocodile felt a pit opening in her stomach and she frowned, confused, down at her lover. "You've seen me. Looked me in the eye! With your glasses off! I _know_ you've had sight before this. Tell me they've addled your brain too and this all can be fixed with a smack from that blasted Okama king!"

His breath wheezed in his throat and his eyes closed again. "I did have sight once… when I was very young. When I was about ten years old, I was hit in the back of the head- very, very hard. My vision first got blurry, then darkened until I could only see shapes, and shortly after everything went black. And... it never came back. I've been blind since long before I met you. I've been compensating with my fruit all this time."

"You... What... HOW!?!" She sat up, scooting back so that she could actually look at him, as though she could see what the trouble was and remove it. "Don, you need to start making sense before I lose my composure any further than I already have. _You know what I'm like when I haven't had nicotine in weeks. Explain yourself!"_

He took off his glasses, sighing softly. This was going to hurt her- this was why he'd never spoken of this. If she hadn't brought it up, if she hadn't asked, he would have continued to pretend, he could have kept up the facade- but he'd promised her once he'd answer what she asked of him. And she asked.

"Everything is made up of strings, when it comes down to it. Muscle fiber and sinew. Chains of atoms, stacked atop one another. When I first lost my sight, I found I could 'see' these little strings making up the world, and I realized quickly I'd rediscovered my sight, essentially. And I have used and abused that ability mercilessly, non-stop, since I first discovered it. I have been, in every way most essential, able to 'see', but it's never been true sight. I can't see colors, or discern visual texture, but I've been able to 'see' well enough. It's why I can dodge so well- I'm aware of the 'string' of atoms that make up a weapon or the energy of an attack and get out of the way in time.

"And when my strings are taken away," he raised the shackle remaining, "I'm just as blind as I've ever been, without my fruit to compensate."

Something in the brunette's chest hurt, twisted and aching, like the blade of a rusty knife, broken off in her breast and inching its way closer and closer to her heart. There was a whimpering sound that for the rest of her natural life she would deny _ever_ came from her. Then she was flurry of activity, gathering him up between her breasts and holding him tight, refusing to acknowledge the sting in her face and the wetness on her cheeks as it dripped onto his. She was vibrating with an emotion that fought to be released, and only sheer willpower kept it at bay. Somewhere in the back of her mind a tiny voice spoke up that were she in her right body, she wouldn't be acting like this and that giving into it now just because she had different hormones running through her system was weak and pathetic, but somehow hearing that voice only made the feeling worse, causing her to cling tighter, shake more, and give out a slightly louder version of the sound she _didn't_ make.

Don gasped when she first laid hand on him- prepared for violence- but was confused to be instead pulled up to her and gathered in like a precious child. Then his face was wet all of a sudden and for a second he thought _he_ must be crying. He did do that, sometimes, when thinking back on those bad times hurt him, but his throat wasn't all that tight and his face didn't feel hot or pinched, so it couldn't be him...

A little whimper of his own came out of his throat before he could stop it as his hands came up to cling to her. "You're- you're not mad at me? For- for not. Not mentioning it?"

He couldn't stop the way it sounded- small, and frightened, like the child he'd been and not the man he was. He couldn't help himself. Being blinded again was like taking him right back there, back to ten years old and terrified because if he couldn't see he wasn't useful and his master did not keep slaves that weren't useful.

"No. No. God no. Don! Why? No, nevermind, it doesn't matter."

She held him, closing her own eyes against the way her body betrayed her. His tone didn't help, small and pathetic. He reminded her of Law, and Bellamy, and the others, all of the little ones she'd witnessed him bring into and out of her life over the course of their relationship. It was a weakness, she knew, but one she could never bring herself to remove. There was just something special about an unjaded mind, and for all that logic told her this was Donquixote Doflamingo, one of the most powerful pirates the world had ever seen, in this moment, with all of that new information... He was hers, and she'd _kill_ anyone who dared try to take him from her, ruthlessly and violently. And the desire to do so boiled over into her muscles, clenching him tighter to her chest, her face buried in his hair, and a gentle rocking motion that she clearly didn't realize she was doing to comfort him.

"I've never told anyone," he whispered against her neck, useless eyes closed. "Kriko would have killed me if he knew."

His throat was tight and his face was wet and there was the heat and the hurt, and he rocked with her as her warm protectiveness began to settle and calm him. He was okay. Croc wouldn't discard him over this. He wasn't going to be dumped by the wayside for being broken. His chest heaved against hers as he fought for breath, trying his best to choke down the sobs that tried to escape, that wrenched at his chest and throat.

She found herself muttering under her breath, death threats, promises of retribution the likes of which she'd never dished out before, and a certain slow-burning anger that was quick to consume the things in her way. She ran her fingers through his hair, down his face, and over his shoulder compulsively. She would destroy those who had brought her beloved low, and she would do it with the meticulous certainty of the creature from which she got her name. Slowly, the tremors of forbidden anguish blended into the shivers of repressed rage, and it may have been Don's imagination, but was the air getting drier _in spite_ of the seastone they both wore?

He raised his head, both to scent the air a bit better and to press his cheek into her hand with a wobbly, lopsided little smile and a hiccup.

"Kriko's dead now, but you can have Vekar," he managed, weakest joke he'd ever offered, but it was all he could manage just now.

The air _felt_ drier to him- and his face wasn't wet anymore all of a sudden!

Oh. Wow. That was some powerful rage.

"He will rue the day he laid hand on you." She promised quietly.

Too quietly. It was her thinking tone. The one she used when she was running scenarios in her mind and setting up _exactly_ how she was going to make the chess game play out so that at the end of it, she had all of her pieces and the opponent had none, not even the memory of pieces.

His smile got a bit bigger, a bit stronger, a bit more genuine and his eyes opened. They were dilated in the low light- still a functioning organ, it was simply that the signals in his head were interrupted before they could be processed by his brain so he couldn't interpret what his eyes reported- the report got burned before reaching the command center.

"If you could get my contract from him first... I wouldn't mind it being in your hands."

"Contract? What contract?" Her attention snapped to focus on him entirely, because that was a new piece, something unexpected on her mental board.

He blinked. "My... slave contract. I made them put it all in writing. They promised me safety for my family, my group of other street kids, shelter year-round from freezing and foul weather, and pay from work in the brothel to buy food and pay for a doctor sometimes, and I made them put it in writing. When Kriko died, I had to leave the island as quick as possible and my contract got left behind. I assume Vekar has it now, since Kriko willed everything to him."

Though she knew he couldn't see it, Crocodile's gears changed direction so abruptly she was sure Don heard it. Her body relaxed, and her hand began tracing an infinity symbol into his temple as she leaned against the wall, the large man sprawled across her like a blond blanket.

Then she purred the smile on her lips audible, "Tell me about Vekar."

"Ah, um. Shit. I actually remember what he looked like- just lemme call it up..."

He had to dig way down deep into his memories, hands curling around her hips as he tried not to think too hard about what _that_ particular tone of voice meant. It did things to him that were very inappropriate right now.

"I remember he's tall. For a regular person. Maybe five ten? Slender, not muscled, sure's hell not bulky. Dark skinned and very..." he struggled for a moment for a word, the image in his mind clearer the longer he talked about it. "Oily. He's got this feeling that he's made of oil and grease without actually _looking_ unwashed. But he greases his hair- or used to- with some absolutely awful-smelling stuff.” He thought a moment more. "And he liked to be like you. That is, he liked to THINK he could be like you- uh, like, regal, of noble bearing, y'know. Like you. That was the ideal he was striving for, but, well, he could put on all the airs he liked, it didn't make him a noble. He always tried to talk proper, and was always talking down to everyone else except Kriko, and pretending mundane, ordinary things weren't worth his time. He couldn't pull it off. And that, I'll bet, he's still trying to do all these years later," he snorted in disgust.

"Properly." She corrected unconsciously, clearly still thinking. "Do you happen to know if he was 'lucky' enough to have a Devil Fruit?"

She was up to something, fishing for something. Something connected to whatever it was Don had just agreed to be a part of with the Strawhats, Ivankov, and Kid. In fact, Crocodile seemed to almost be eager that the answer would be 'yes', even if it was probably 'no'.

"Well, no. He was fond of using conditioning to force obedience based on tone of voice. He never had a Devil Fruit, Alex."

"Hm, then it will have to wait. No matter. I am a patient man." She rumbled, seeming to settle a little further into the blankets the way her namesake did a river.

Don smiled a little and nuzzled into his beloved's throat, spreading himself over her a bit more. "You are," he crooned softly. "I'm sure you'll put your plan into motion right when the time is perfect. You always do."


	3. Chapter 3

"Luffy, are you sure we can trust them?" Robin sat forward, a frown on her face and the book she'd been reading closed around her thumb.

Her sharp blue eyes were focused on the shadowed alcove across the common room from where her crew had staked out their territory. She scanned the rest, noting that there were clumps of people muttering amongst themselves, casting furtive glances at the same pair who'd just retreated into privacy, and she didn't need to use her abilities to know that they all doubted whether the plan could actually be pulled off now that Doflamingo was among them. She shook her head and turned her attention to her captain.

Luffy fiddled with his hat and frowned. He'd been unable to keep his hands off it since they tried to take it away this last time, he'd very nearly lost it to a guard's halberd.

"Croc, I know we can. We settled our scores with him. But Feathers... I don't know. He seemed... weird." He turned to the blackness and shadows on his left. "Traffy, you know him, is he gonna betray us?"

Law stepped out of the shadows with a deep frown and his hands in his pockets.

"...I do not believe so, Luffy. He knows there is no other option than to ally with you and similarly he knows that betraying you would be a bad idea." He paused before adding, "He never has gone back on a deal he's made. He once explained it to me that obeying the 'rules' was integral to how he plays his games. Because if he doesn't abide by the rules, he doesn't get to punish the other players for breaking them, and he dearly enjoys penalizing the other players. However…"

His lips pressed into a thin line as he swept a hand through his hair.

"However you are correct in calling him 'weird'. He is not acting at all like his usual self. It may be whatever injury he sustained that allowed his capture, but I doubt it. No... I think there's something else going on. Something he wants to hide." He clicked his tongue. "Whether it is dangerous or not, I do not know yet. But I think, perhaps, I should give him a cursory examination soon. I might be able to discern more then. After all," his mouth quirked up in a deprecating smile, "there are few who know Doflamingo's mannerisms better than the boy who grew up with him."

Their conversation was cut off by the lights dimming. Noises of confusion and no small amount of excitement rippled through the gathered crowd as everyone’s attention focused on one side of the common room. A heavy metal sheet was welded to a framework with a curtain and a row of bright lights, all currently aimed at the shadows off to the left of it. Makeshift speakers hung from either end of the lighting bar, and one of the nameless pirates was seated just inside the circle of light with a soundboard. He flipped a switch and Ivankov’s voice boomed out overhead.

"Okay CANDIES~!" The overdramatic Okama leapt across the stage with a twirl of his microphone and a flashy wink, "Sanji-boy has just told me..." He paused for dramatic effect, "we are all out of food!"

Most of the room gasped audibly, bemoaning the proclamation, but in her corner, Crocodile just rolled her eyes and counted silently. Five... four... three... two... and...

"HEE HAW! I AM LYING!" Ivankov twirled out of the 'depressed' pose he'd been in, and pointed out at the audience. "AND YOU ALL FELL FOR IT! HEE HAW!"

The rest of his performance didn't matter because the brunette sand user sighed and climbed out of the tangle of limbs and blankets in which she was wrapped up. "C'mon, Donny. Supper."

Her voice was resigned, like she expected something to happen, and strangely she wasn't fighting against it. This plus her earlier demonstration of leaking power in spite of the seastone cuff on her arm added up to something disconcerting. Just how long had she been here?

It made Don nervous, and to be honest a nervous Doflamingo was a twitchy and hair trigger Doflamingo. But he trusted Croc, so he obediently got up and after a moment of searching with his hands to find her face, he pecked her cheek and took her hand in his. Ivankov's yelling hurt his ears, a lot, but he could deal with anything as long as he was with Crocodile.

All across the room people were gathering into the center, far too many people, where a long plank of wood had been fished out of a crack in the wall and balanced across crates and barrels that had clearly been pilfered from the other levels of the prison. From the end of the table closest to the Strawhat Alcove tins and bowls made of flattened metal and scraps of wood and leather were passed down, hand over hand, from person to person, an equal portion in each dish, and no one tried to hoard the bowls. There was a small din with a couple of small-time pirates who'd been brought in after Croc returned with Don, but the smack of a heavy hand against the pseudo-table was enough to make them stop.

Beside her lover, Crocodile grumbled, "Bloody marine."

She'd directed them to the very end of the table, as far from the Strawhats as possible, and coincidentally putting Don against a wall so that he didn't have to pass anything from anyone or to anyone. Her plan was to simply eat and return to their hole in the wall, but as with most of her attempts so far, it seemed not to be.

"Oh, Aly-chan~!" The Strawhat cook seemed to appear out of nowhere with his arm offered for her to take. "Did you forget you have a special place set, just for you among the other beautiful ladies?"

Croc tensed, clenching her jaw, and her spine shuddered. "No. I had thought to spend this evening instructing our newest partner in how things are done here."

An air of danger settled over the trio, and Sanji smiled, "Then wouldn't it be best to show him _exactly_ how things are done here?"

There was a subtle threat implied in what the chef said, though only the sand user understood it implicitly. She stood carefully, and around them those who were close enough to hear the exchange were suddenly enthralled with the thin stew they'd been given for nourishment. Sanji was waiting, and Crocodile took a steadying breath, the word 'no' poised on her lips. She glanced from the cook to the other end of the table, where all of the women were gathered in a circle with a better table and actual pottery. Their stew seemed thicker too, as it had been dished up first, and there was a single empty seat. For her. She couldn't stop the shudder that ran through her spine a second time.

Doflamingo's head came up and behind his cracked glasses his eyes narrowed. He'd felt that shudder, both times, and there was an undertone to the voice that had broken his chain that set him on edge. And he was trying to take Crocodile away. His only lifeline here. The only one who knew- and if he had his way would EVER know- his secret.

And slowly, he stood up, his bulk half in shadow as he put his hand gently on Croc's shoulder. A cock of his ear told him there were feminine murmurs much further away, and all the nearer, louder voices seemed to be distinctly male.

"Is there a purpose to a sex-based segregation," he said, voice low, "that I ought to be aware of?"

"Why protection, of course. Everyone knows a woman's sensibilities are easily affronted, and I'm sure the last thing you would want is to expose dear Aly-chan to such brutish, uncivilized folk. Wouldn't you agree, Joker?" There was some undertone, that even if the blond chef meant it sincerely, it came across as sarcastic. "Besides, Aly-chan, wouldn't you be happier among others of your kind?"

Croc's breathing had picked up, and though Don couldn't see it, the embarrassed flush that accompanied her anger was audible in the way she practically vibrated next to him. "I am content where I am, Mr. Prince-san. I don't need special consideration, thank you for your concern."

Doflamingo's voice was utterly flat. "I can think of nothing more offensive to him than to assume so rudely that he needs to be protected. The only affront around here is the fact that you think you have the right to decide for someone else what you want them to be 'exposed' to. So no, I cannot say I agree. One of the most brutish things to do to anyone, in this case Crocodile, is to ignore what he says because you don't agree."

He wanted to hit the upstart chef. He wanted to shout. _Can't you see he's uncomfortable? Can't you fucking understand that women are not 'his kind'? Are you so stupid that a pair of breasts can change your worldview so drastically you cannot listen when a person TELLS YOU he or she doesn't want it? Can't you fucking see what's right in front of you; can't you hear how much it makes him unhappy to be considered a woman? And how dare you use such an insulting name for him when it makes him flinch!_

But he kept his mouth shut on that. He kept his argument as polite as he could stand, and his voice toneless even though he wanted nothing more than to get angry, get aggressive and argue. He bit his tongue instead.

"It isn't a matter of whether I agree with her decision or not, is it? Aly. Chan." The threat grew.

There was something they hadn't yet uncovered, and it made Croc close her eyes and swallow. Somewhere close by someone else climbed to their feet and the wave of the sand user's hand had them sit again.

"As usual, your arguments are more than persuasive, Mr. Prince-san. I'll return after supper, Don." Her tone was resigned, almost... defeated?! And she reached her hand to touch the back of her lover's gently, as though he was the one needing reassurance that she'd be fine.

He did. Because until Croc touched his hand with hers, it was already balling into a fist as his shoulders tensed like bowstrings. His teeth ground together, and his hand flipped to hold hers so he could lean in and kiss her cheek again- though he missed and kissed her temple instead. It would do for now.

"I'll wait 'til you're done," he said, which would dispel (hopefully) any suspicions that arose from him just sitting there until she came back.

"Agreed."

Sanji offered his arm, and she took it, though not without lingering in Don's grasp for as long as possible. Then they moved off and it suddenly began to be clear why the Strawhat chef was doing what he was doing, because as soon as they thought she was out of hearing range the murmurs began.

"Ja see the skirt she's got on t'day?"

"If I could get me hands on her, ooh, she'd never wanna go back. I swear it."

"Wastes her time, she does. With a rack like that?!"

Then somebody elbowed Don, "Oi, how come she's all over you, mate? You own her or somethin'?"

The sudden elbowing did two things: it activated a reflex he'd forgotten he had, and it severely aggravated his wound. It was lucky for him, because even though his hand flashed out in what should have been a brutal slap of the offending limb, it was more of an aggrieved, weak push as he hunched up.

"Yes, she's fucking mine," he hissed through clenched teeth, head touching the board in front of him as his whole body shuddered. He didn't have enough breath to add 'and I'm hers, for the past twenty years, lay the fuck off'.

A sudden second hand touched him, the owner silent for a moment, but the first person yowled in pain. It was as the sound tapered off into a whimper that the deep voice of one to whom Croc trusted her life reached his ears, "Do you require aid, Doflamingo-san?"

The shifting of bodies and grumbled discontent followed that as around them the others backed away slightly.

Don attempted to bolt upright when the new strange hand touched him, but the yowl of pain informed him that this wasn't a threat. And then Bones was there, and he let himself relax, at least in the most miniscule ways.

"Yes, please, Bones. The Marines got me with a gut shot and it was poorly treated," he murmured as quietly as he could and still hope the swordsman could hear him. "I'm not good for much right now."

"Boss won't be happy that you kept it from him." Daz rumbled just as softly, "But I know a guy who can help. Got anything sweet on you?"

He was puzzled, but—

"Yeah, always keep a few butterscotch candies in my pockets. Suckers too, for when I can't smoke. The rest went the way of my coat, but I still have a few."

"Good."

The stoic blademan deliberately draped Don's arm on his bad side around his shoulders, hauling the larger man up from his seat, and making a pretense of it being from the seastone. That, they all had in common and no one could say otherwise. It was a well-known fact that everyone who came in was weak as a kitten when they first showed up. So, the fact that the former warlord needed a hand getting about was easily written off as what some of them had taken to calling 'stonesick' as a play on being seasick when one first set out as a pirate. It was a short walk away from the table and closer to the stage, and shortly after Daz had led him off, the squeaky voice was audible over the din of dining pirates.

"Smoker, didn't I tell you to take it EASY! Not dodging that strike cracked three ribs, _you're lucky you weren't killed!!!"_ The tiny doctor was re-dressing the bandage around the former marine's torso and dressing him down just like he would any of the other muscleheads he regularly had to bandage up. "And I don't want to hear about that whole pirate nonsense again! You're one of us now, so _deal with it!_ You're under doctor's orders!"

"Ain't right t'just let th'assholes pick on th'new guys," a husky, smoker's rasp snapped back. "It ain't 'bout them bein' pirates s'bout them needin' an ass-whuppin’ fer not rememberin' we're all fuckin' stuck in this t'gether an' we need everybody we c'n get!"

Don managed a smile. Ahhh, one of the only Marines he respected. "Still up to the same old shit, Smokey. Defend the weak and hand the asses of those pretending to be powerful back to them on a platter."

"...Pinky?" His voice was hushed- disbelieving. How could the marines have ever captured him alive, much less brought him in?

"I know, I know. Not for lack of trying. Gut shot while I was trying to get more air. Assholes. I don't think they even removed the bullet yet. I'm just lucky it didn't puncture my stomach and get acid all over my organs."

"They used a shitty fuckin' marine doctor? Then why even bother—?"

"Don't ask me," he said miserably. "I need to sit down, is there a chair?"

"Uh..." There was a skittering of hooves.

"That's the wrong way." Daz rumbled indulgently.

"I KNEW THAT!" The something squeaked.

Crocodile's second-in-command brought Don around and put gentle pressure on his back. "Sit."

Then the tiny thing squeaked closer, clearly intimidated by the giant man, and placed a shaking hoof on his knee. "You'll have to take your shirt off if I'm going to treat you."

Don sat, and smiled a little. "Alright." It took him a second, but he managed to find the pocket with the candy in it and offered one until he felt it taken. "A little fortification- it's kind of a mess."

Then he reached up and pulled his shirt off by gripping the collar and yanking it over his head and ohgodthehurtofbending!

He then sat up straight and pushed his knees outwards just a little, putting his torn-up stomach within easy reach. It was sloppily bandaged, the bandages leaking heavily, and what lay underneath was a mess of rent flesh, carelessly pushed about and cut up for the doctor to attempt to find the ball- which he had failed at- and given only one or two pitiful stitches, which were red and inflamed. They looked like they'd been made with fishing line, and from the state of that redness it wasn't sterilized either. Blood and a little milky discharge oozed free the moment the bandages came off, and Don hissed at the cool air on the burning spot in his abdomen.

"AIEEEEEEE~!" The little doctor threw his candy when he got a good look at the wound. "Smoker move. Clear the floor! Git!! GIT!!!"


	4. Chapter 4

Chopper shouted and clattered about, waving his arms and doing his best to look intimidating, though it wasn't very. People moved though, because that was the other near-constant... almost everyone that came through the hidden doors was injured in some way when they got there. So, being treated and healed had endeared the reindeer to just about everyone in the covenant. So, people moved. Chairs scraped on the stone as they were dragged. The sound of cloth flapping spoke of someone putting a layer down to keep the area clean. And murmurs of realization were underlined with a tone of anger that the marines had fallen into such measures as those when it came to patching up the damage they'd done.

"Daz, get him on the ground, but don't pull those stitches too much. AND SOMEBODY FIND ME LAW!" The little doctor screeched, rushing over to Don's side.

Don didn't seem to be too alarmed- but then, he couldn't see it. "Oh, it's that bad?"

He winced and breathed out sharply as Daz helped him down, feeling the half-coagulated scab at the very edges of it pull as he laid flat, breathing deeply through his nose until his chest felt like it would burst and he let it out again.

"I didn't think... it would be so bad... I mean, the guy didn't even get the- the ball out... he couldn't have cut me up too much... guess I was wrong," he added with a little, lopsided smile.

There was a clatter of boots in the doorway. "What's the—"

The footsteps stopped dead for a moment, then came closer, until there was a vibration right next to him that he felt up his spine and a dull 'thud'. Knees on the floor, he guessed.

"Papa," An all too-familiar voice murmured, and Don's head turned at the break in it, reaching up for him.

The large man tried to soothe his fledgling, "S'not as bad as it looks—"

"No it's worse, now shut up! Chopper, what're the treatment options available?"

Don smiled at the sharp bark that cut him off. So cute, all grown up and a doctor-captain on his own.

"First things first, get that bullet out of him. Second..." The reindeer looked around, measuring people with his eyes. "I think we need to find him someone to switch with, someone who'll ACTUALLY LISTEN!"

That part of his sentence was obviously meant for Smoker to hear, and his hooves clip-clopped around to the door, peering out around at the gathered people at the table. The only one that even came close to Don's size was Daz, and Chopper wouldn't put him out of commission. He needed to blademan to do what he'd been doing, acting as guard. He gave a frustrated little noise.

"I don't see what other choice we have. Stitch him up, I'll send a couple of the Pipe Crew out to find the medicines I need, and hope for the best. When the plan goes down, we need him at full strength, just like everybody else."

"He'll make a full recovery just fine," Law said as his Room billowed out, fueled by his fury that any man could leave a patient— _his patient, his father—_ in this condition and dare call himself a doctor. "He'll make a full recovery or _I will know why_."

Don barked a laugh. "Oooh. I'd better get ready to be all healed then, don't wanna have to answer why I'm not."

"Damn straight, you goddamn oversized bird!"

Chopper pushed everybody back, installed Daz on the door, and hauled Smoker to find his captain. "LUFFY! LUUUUUFFFY!!!!!"

The namesake of the Strawhat crew sat up from his bowl of stew and blinked. "Mah, Chopper. Smokey all healed yet?"

His grin was slightly forced, a shadow of the easy-going joy he'd had out on the high seas. In short, being back here had taken its toll on the Pirate King. For all that it was his leadership that had ensured everyone's survival up to that point, he seemed to be constantly in war mode, and the reason for why hung from the string around his hat—the medallion that had once been proudly displayed on his brother's grave.

"Luffy, I need the Pipe Crew." The reindeer was slightly out of breath from running, "Antibiotics, bandages, antiseptic wash. This one's bad, Luffy. Really bad. We might lose him if we can't treat the infection. Do you think Sabo can do it? Can he get back into the hospital again?"

There was shouting from Law and a scream of agony that was enough to knock out several people who were too close.

Smoker looked over his shoulder, worried at that sound. That was the sound of one of those damnably fragile seastone bullets turning into shards when caught by tweezers.

He ground his teeth."I dunno if he can, but we gotta ask. This is settin' up to be a long surgery an' an equally long recovery. Fuckin' butchers. I dunno how he's stood the sheer pain this long."

“Have a little more faith, Smokey.” The topic of their conversation walked up to them like a rooster with his hat tilted to shadow his scar, and a smug grin on his face. “We’ll be in and out like a hotdog down a hallway.” He spun his weapon of choice, a tiny flame at the end of it, and winked. “We allowed to play, Oh King of the Pirates?"

Sabo's exaggerated bow had Luffy laughing in spite of the circumstances of the request, and Chopper flailed about, a bit frustrated with how lightly both were taking the situation. Jokes were fine but not when he had patients' lives on the line. The former noble fluffed the tiny doctor's head fur, and gave a sharp whistle, drawing the attention of about six scrawny, almost underfed, boys just under the age of maturity. He set out with his top hat on and pipe in hand, the rest of them falling into line behind him when the mystery door opened in the wall and they disappeared.

At the women's table, off to the side, a commotion broke out when Croc's voice snapped over the din of people talking, "GODDAMNIT LET ME GO!"

Smoker appeared at his- her- side in a moment with a restraining hand on her shoulder- and would bring out the smoke snake if necessary. "Hold up a sec', Croc. Calm down. Stormin' aroun' ain't gonna help nobody."

"Get your hand off me too." She fumed. "I want nothing more than to be left alone! Why is that so difficult for you 'heroes' to understand!? I am not incapable of defending myself."

"Yeah but..." One of the other girls was both nervous about the altercation and worried for what she perceived as her fellow woman.

"Contrary to popular belief this is NOT the first time I've had tits, now do me the favor, and BACK OFF!" Crocodile's hair had flung into her face as she wrenched her shoulder out from under Smoker's grip. "I am still Sir Crocodile and you would do best to remember it, White Hunter."

Oh- oh, so she HADN'T realized where Don was yet. Oh shit.

"I can assure you that I've never forgotten, Croc. But right now, you need'a be calm. Okay? Ya can't ferget there's somebody who needs ya t'be calm for 'im right now."

He took a step to the side, which framed Doflamingo's empty seat.

Her eyes snapped around the room, uncharacteristic worry plain on her first for the first time since she'd arrived. "Where is he? Where did he go? What happened while I was imprisoned with the froo-froo club!?"

"He's safe fer right now, but I ain't tellin' ya any more 'til yer calm. He needs calm righ' now."

There was another burst of noise from the direction of the infirmary and Smoker's eyes flicked in that direction before he thought about it.

"His wound." She whispered, the center of her being dropping out from under her. "Tell me. At least enough that Law is with him. There are things you have no right to know, that are important to his doctor."

"Yeh, Law is with 'im now," He replied, voice soothing and even. "They've sent the Pipe Crew out fer supplies. If there's somethin' Law needs t'know, you oughta tell'im. They're in the infirmary now- but ya can't go in," he cautioned when he saw her weight shift. "Law's operatin'. An' we all know s'best not t'watch."

Croc wavered for a moment, indecision plain on her face, but a giggle from a set of twins she didn't know by name made up her mind. "Then I'll wait outside the door until he's finished."

She deliberately pushed past the former marine with a huff that would have been a growl had she possessed her normal voice, and stalked straight through a cluster of men who were sharing a drink. The water evaporated from their cups as if it had never been there. She established a place to sit on a barrel next to Daz at the door, crossed her arms and closed her eyes, focusing through her other senses to anticipate any trouble.

Luffy tilted his head to the side and gave a considering blink, "Chopper..."

The tiny reindeer jumped to attention at his captain's side.

"It's working."

The curses Crocodile could hear from her new position were frightening. Law didn't curse, not like this. But he was now. All those little fucking shards!

Interspersed with those were Don's little grunts, the occasional hiss and the even more occasional breathy sob as the seastone speared his insides and hurt so badly he just wanted to cry. But the movements of his stomach would hurt even worse, leaving him with no options at all.

But after two hours, he gasped, "Can we- can we take a- a break? Pl-please."

Law growled. "Two more shards. Then we'll break for a bit."

Don whimpered.

"Promise." Two shards later, and Law emerged, wiping his hands on a towel and gritting his teeth. "Chopper, has the Pipe crew returned yet?"

He left the door open and his Room up as he went in search of the little doctor.

Crocodile took the opportunity to slip into the operating Room. Law would know she was there, but the only thing she touched was Don's hand. She brought it to her cheek and kissed his palm, letting Daz and the curve of the room hide how she dropped her guard. She hated how she was driven to cling to him, how she needed to be next to him. When she was male none of this happened, she never felt like this. Okay, maybe she did, but she could refuse it better, bury it under paperwork and plans and all of the other things she had tugging at her attention, and... maybe that was the point. Here she couldn't distract herself, here she had nothing she had to actually do, other than those stupid meetings of the froo-froo club. Most of the females were vapid and uncaring of anything of consequence. The only ones she might have had a rapport with were members of the Strawhat crew, and one of those didn't trust her any further than she could spit, which wasn't very far.

Outside, the Pipe Crew had indeed returned, bearing more than just medicine and bandages. Sabo had to climb on the table and raise his arms for quiet, "Oi!! OI!!! _OI YOU LOUTS!_ " They quieted, "I've found the missing non-fruit users! There's a seventh level. Carved into the bedrock of the seafloor on the backs of fishmen!"

A cheer rang out across the room and Ivankov and his back-up dancers began shaking their glitter-decorated rears in a victory dance that very few people were actually watching.

Within the infirmary Don turned his head and smiled weakly. "Mmm. I know those calluses..." His hand curled around hers and he gave it a little squeeze. "Sorry I didn't mention it- didn't think it was as bad as Law and... Chopper was it... seem to feel it is. Does it look terrible?"

He couldn't tell- he was pleasantly numb at the moment, Law choosing to cut off the nerve signals from about the ribs down. Law had been forced to leave the incisions open, jagged and bluntly done, while he went to get the supplies he needed and discuss what the newly discovered people and level would mean for their collective.

The conversation was being carried out at the tops of voices because the people who were missing crew members wouldn't settle down long enough to find out what needed to be done to rescue said missing crew members. Croc didn't care though. She had what she needed, and she shook her head. Her voice shook to betray her attempt at being calm. Too many nerves frazzled all at once, and something she hadn't mentioned yet, that she knew he wasn't ready to hear.

"I can't say yet. You know the middle of surgery always looks worse than after he's all done. Let the boy work. You raised him for this, remember?"

He smiled a little more and hummed. "You do make a good point. I'm glad he took a break though- he can't numb the nerves until they've lit up in pain first, because if he just shuts them all off it'll mess with my motor functions, I guess. And that's pretty painful."

A voice rose in an almost shriek over the crowd. "I SAID I HAVE A PATIENT IN CRITICAL CARE NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP AND CALM THE FUCK DOWN SO I CAN GET WHAT I NEED TO FIX HIM AND ARRANGE WITH THE PIPE CREW TO RESCUE YOUR NAKAMA LIKE SENSIBLE ADULTS INSTEAD OF PANICKING CHILDREN!"

Don chuckled, then winced. "Oh he does so hate to be interrupted."

That certainly shut them up, and with due time, Chopper had the packs of supplies balanced on his back in walk point, escorting Law back to the Room. He frowned when he saw Crocodile sitting there, but said nothing, merely laying down next to them both, so his fellow medic could have easy access to the supplies Don needed so desperately. For her part, the sand user scooted over a little further out of the way, though still with her hand wrapped in her lover's fingers.

Don was more relaxed with his beloved there and even well enough to poke at his adopted son. "A little tense, are we?"

"Oh good, you're feeling better enough to make smartass remarks, you're ready for the rest of the surgery then," Law replied with a snap of gloves.

Doflamingo subsided and focused on his breathing. "Yeah, g'head."

And he did.

It was a grueling surgery, he had to take him apart layer by layer, make sure he got all the shards of seastone, had to stitch back together what said shards had cut, and had to clean the abdominal cavity of all the blood that had pooled there. It was a relief they'd seemed to catch the infection very early and he used alcohol well on the punctures.

Afterwards, Chopper chased Law into the arms of a rather confused Smoker with strict instructions to go lie down and not get up again until breakfast, or so help him the reindeer would ensure it! Hmph! Then he came back, and gave the brunette on her knees next to the patient a stink eye.

"You should be resting too. You'll be sick tomorrow if you don't and you know it." The tiny doctor shifted back into brain point to begin packing things up and storing them on a set of makeshift shelves at the back of the storage closet-turned-medical bay.

"I am fine." Croc growled, holding Don's hand all the more tightly.

"You've been unstable and moody all evening. I heard you with the other—"

"I AM NOT ONE OF THEM!"

"That's exactly my point." Chopper gave her his most professional look of concern he could manage. "You are physically, and you're going to respond like they would, regardless of what you feel in here. You seem to like to forget, Alex, that I'm used to this."

Strangely enough, the former shichibukai seemed pacified by that, she didn't even comment on the use of her first name, which was something up until now, only Don had been allowed to get away with. The reindeer came up to her and patted her arm, just below the elbow. Don could feel her relax further, the slump of defeat that often followed a dressing down by one's doctor.

"Just promise me you'll get some rest with him, and I'll leave you two alone. I know you've missed him, even if you don't want to say it out loud, and I think sharing it with him would be good for you. It'll help you move on from it."

There was a silent exchange beyond that, and the next sound was the Strawhat crewmember's hoofsteps leaving the room. He muttered something to Daz that had the large swordsman sitting with his back to the door, both blocking them in and guarding them from being disturbed.

Smoker bundled off both doctors with muttered, affectionate curses "goddamn trouble making pirate doctors" and Don listened until they were out of earshot, then he turned his head back to Crocodile.

"Well... c'mon. Best get comfortable. If there's sharing going to happen- if you want to- you should probably be comfortable," he said, trying to be light about it.

He didn't want her to feel pressured, but at the same time he was worried. Concerned. Things were happening all over the place and if there was something Croc was hung-up on he wanted to help if he could.

She hmph'd after the meddling doctor but did as Don suggested, sliding down next to him carefully so as not to pull on his stitches. The last thing she wanted was a second doctor annoyed with her, especially _that_ one in particular. For a while she was quiet, just listening to his heartbeat and letting him take comfort in having her in his arms. Then she sighed, and tilted her head so she could look at him. Her lips pursed, and she almost spoke twice before she finally blurted it out.

"How do you feel about kids?"


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn't until several days later Don was well enough for prolonged coherent thought. It was then the infection cleared out of his blood completely and while the stitches were still staying in and he was forbidden to do much moving, he had plenty of time to think. And think he did, long and hard, while he recovered. It took longer than he expected- several weeks instead of just a few. Law, Chopper, and Croc all conspired to keep him abed with any excuse once he started to get restless, and Croc in particular would entertain his brain once he began to get whiny from boredom.

Most of his thinking was done about Croc. About the last thing she said before Don had passed out.

_How do you feel about kids?_

At first he'd been confused- she knew how he felt about kids. They were adorable and he loved them and he had a really bad habit of adopting them. It had taken the fever's passing to connect it to the rest of the context clues- 'you'll feel better if you tell him', 'the others told me you're getting moody'... 'how do you feel about kids'.

But that was impossible. It didn't WORK. Miraculous conception was not a thing that was possible, but Croc didn't do sex in her female form so...?

But kids. That simple question had a hard answer. He loved kids, he adored them, he did. He would. Unconditionally. No questions asked, except maybe... he wondered who the father was. And if it was really willing on Croc's part, because if it was coerced in any way at all he had somebody to murder. Violently.

He turned to his beloved, sweeping his hand out until it hit something soft. He recognized the curve of her breast and instead moved it up to her shoulder and arm instead. "Hey there."

Curled against his chest and lightly dozing, the object of his thoughts blinked and made a groaning type noise far more befitting someone of a fairer sex than she. In fact, it stood out as even more odd because instead of sitting up and grumbling about things to do and being kept from them, she actually snuggled in closer, gripping him tightly across as much of his chest as she could manage with her single intact arm. She mumbled something about pineapples and growled, burying her nose in his shirt.

He chuckled and stroked her hair. "Now now, Marco has never done anything to you. Shhh about that. You asked me a question a while back... do you want to ask me again?"

"Hmm? Question? Huh?" She blinked at him, golden-brown eyes bleary with the almost sleep she'd been in, and confusion wrinkling the bridge of her nose further than it already was. "You know I hate when you just pick random conversations to start having over again weeks after I've forgotten what we were going to talk about, right?"

"It was a pretty important question. The kind that I'm surprised you haven't brought up again," he said slowly, running his hand down her arm to her hip. "It's a question you know the answer to, so you asking it is kind of a red flag."

She grew quiet, the kind that meant she was hiding something and didn't want him poking at it. "It doesn't matter. The situation will fix itself."

"No, it does matter," he insisted gently. "Or you wouldn't have asked. Even if it does... fix itself... please, talk to me."

She pulled away slightly, moving as though to get up, "When do I ever talk about things?"

She froze, however, when his fingers drifted off of her hip and down to place his palm against her stomach. Her breathing picked up, almost as though she was afraid. It wasn't much, just enough to make her clothes not fit right, barely big enough for him to even feel, but as compared to the flat plane it usually was, it was a big difference. Everything seemed to hang in that moment and she gripped the cloth of his sleeve tightly enough that her knuckles turned white.

His fingers spread, palm moving just slightly, fingers protectively caging the tiny little bump. "You don't, usually. But I'm asking you to. Here, with me. Because you know me and I will not argue your decisions about your body. Please."

She shivered, withholding the entirety of herself as usual, and in a very, very small voice that almost seemed to come from somewhere else she asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Do you want it?"

"Yes? No? I don't know."

He nodded. "Okay." No argument, no pressing. "If you decide to keep it, I am with you unconditionally; I will love it and adore it as my own. If you don't, I am also behind you on hundred percent. I only have one other question for you right now. Who do I need to kill?"

This was a story that would take a while to explain, and she shuddered thinking about it. "It..."

She was cut off there by a polite knock outside their alcove, and upon looking up she tensed again, gripping Don's hand away from her belly so quickly that she was certain she pinched something in the process. There was a pause, expectant and heavy, then the person just outside cleared his throat and stepped through the curtain that had been hung up for privacy.

"A snack, Aly-chan. To share, if you wish." Sanji's voice held none of the threat it usually did when they were out among the others, and he placed the tray carefully across their laps. "Call if you need anything else."

Then he was gone again, the curtain making a small fwoosh as he left, and Croc drew her feet up to sit, knowing that she really should eat the bread and meat spread the cook had provided, even if she really didn't want to. So she took the period of debate over it to shake her head and answer her lover's question.

"No one."

Don sat up, flexing his hand and propping himself up at an angle so he didn't mess up his stomach, and rested his cheek on her shoulder. "Okay." He wrapped his free arm around her waist, his hand resting on her thigh as he sniffed. "Mmm. Why does everything that asshole makes smell so nice?"

His stomach growled, but he was still on a soft solids diet and he had no idea what the cook had brought, so he nudged his nose up against her jaw and pressed a soft kiss to the spot behind her ear.

"But if you ever do want to talk about it, I'm all yours."

She took the bread, scraped a fingerful of the meat paste off of it, and rolled her shoulder to get him to turn forward, "Open."

He did, having learned over the past few weeks several body signals of hers, and of course, as always trusting her. Though it felt so very peculiar to be holding his mouth open like a little kid. He did it anyways, because she always had a good reason.

She put her finger on his tongue, letting him suck the soft, vaguely sausage-tasting, spread from her digit and sighed, nibbling the bread. "It smells so good because he's good at what he does, and don't call him an asshole. He's overbearing for a reason."

"I know, I know, he's one of those fucking white knight people, I can smell the stink of his chivalry. But I don't like it when he does that vaguely threatening thing. Makes me want to kick out his knees." He sighed softly and kissed her fingertip before she pulled it away, wishing desperately he could have solids again.

"There's more to it than that. He white-knights for every female he ever sees, but..." Her voice dropped to barely a whisper, "He knows. He's.... like me. And... he... I wasn't supposed to get like this from it." She deliberately took a bite of the thing so she could stop talking for a moment, extremely uncomfortable with what she'd just revealed.

His arm held onto her a little tighter and he was surprised at the sudden... intense... _jealousy_ that sprang up in his stomach. He took a few deep breaths to smother the flames; he had no right to be jealous, none at all, Croc was willing to put up with him playing around when they were apart, he had absolutely _no right_ to be upset and especially not jealous of Crocodile doing the exact same thing. None.

He let out the breath slowly, considering his words. "Things... happen sometimes that weren't planned. I'm surprised he wouldn't know better than to pretend different parts make not a different person being as he's the same."

She glared, eyes darting from blind eye to blind eye furiously. "There is _nothing_ between us, Donny. Whatever you're thinking you've got it wrong! I don't _do_ that. Ever. You know that. I hardly want sex when I am normal, _let alone_ when I am like _this_. He treats me as he does to keep up the act. Believe me, I am _not_ his type."

His eyes lowered- though sightless, he could tell she was looking into them. "Like I said. Sometimes things happen that weren't planned for, and never expected. I'm not questioning you."

And he never would.

"You think I slept with him because I _wanted_ to!" She growled, and pushed away from him. She was fuming by the time she reached her feet. "If there had been _any_ other choice, Doflamingo, I would _gladly_ have taken it. Do you know how horrible it feels being in this body?! How _disgusted_ I am at myself?! Do you even have _ANY_ idea what it's like to want to tear yourself apart because the skin you were born in doesn't match who. You. Know. You. ARE!"

She was ranting now, fueled by pent up rage that under any other circumstances she'd have kept tightly controlled until she could expel it on some unsuspecting country that deserved a drought for a decade or two.

"But do you think anyone out there knows that? And I don't mean outside of our whatever-this-is, I mean outside this prison! There are plenty beyond this curtain who understand, you just don't know them except once a month when Ivankov goes around STABBING EVERYBODY! But no. No no. You wouldn't know would you? You just got here. You have NO IDEA THE KIND OF PIGS THAT ARE EMPLOYED HERE!!!"

She was panting, hair hanging into her face and her voice echoed in the small room. Her hand clutched into a fist, and the bread crushed between her fingers. The air was hot, arid, and on the tray things had begun to dry out, in spite of being further than arm's length from her. She bared her teeth in the fashion that she usually used for enemies that had _really_ gotten under her skin, like Luffy when he took down her organization, and on her exhale, tiny growling noises caught somewhere between hiss and rattle escaped her clenched jaw.

He pushed to his feet, feeling for her. The heat and dry rasp told him where, and he took a step closer. "I know you hate that body, and you would not have sex while inside it if you had a choice. I know that." His mouth twisted and his fingers twitched. "That's why I said I wouldn't _ask_."

He was trying; he was trying so hard, he really was. But something pulsed through him and before he could stop it, it was bursting out his mouth.

"I know _exactly_ what kind of pigs work here; I put a fair number of them in here. I just didn't expect them to get promoted to _guards_ and not ripped apart by the inmates. I know it's fucking cruel that Ivankov didn't change you back the minute he realized your hormones wore off. I know that what's happened to you is nothing you ever wanted and if you would tell me who, I would kill them with my bare fucking hands."

His hands clenched and his knuckles popped and creaked.

"And if being in that body for you is anything like being blind again is for me, I think I know what it feels like! And I _do_ know how disgusted you are, because that's how much I repulse MYSELF, don't TELL ME I don't know what it's like to want to tear the skin you were born in to shreds because I _know that only too FUCKING WELL!_ "

He hunched and whirled, showing her the scarred, horrifyingly mutilated expanse that was his back- she'd seen it before, but he'd never put it on display, not like this.

_"Don't you dare question my understanding of your self-hatred and desire to tear apart your body when I MOTHERFUCKING DID!"_

She stepped back, the air clearing, and she shook her head, though she knew he couldn't see it. "Y-you...you don't...that... that isn't the same..."

Her voice shook, and she wrapped her arms around her ribs. She needed to hide, find a place to be alone. Somewhere no one could hurt her. Bury herself in the river mud and not come out until she was hungry again. So, she sank, dropped to her knees and hunched over herself, pressed as far back into the shadows as she could get. She wouldn't cry! Crying was for the weak! And she had stopped being weak a LONG time ago. But she was fighting it, shaking with the effort, and strangled noises coming from her. He was between her and the door, and somewhere in her twisted sense of self and what had happened, him being that much bigger, even if he was blind and stringless, it tripped something that had her cowering from him. Something she had _never_ done.

Internally she berated herself. She was Sir Crocodile! Former shichibukai and one of the strongest pirates known to the Grand Line! The man who'd almost conquered Alabasta, nearly toppled the Marines at the War of the Best, if not for her actions Roger's boy would have died far less nobly than he did! Who was she to _cower_ in the presence of an angry man!? Especially this one! She was weak! Had allowed herself to be cornered! Something she'd promised herself over and over would _never_ happen again. Her vision tunneled, focusing on a single speck of dirt among thousands on the floor and the blood in her veins rushed through her ears like the swell of the surf over her head. She couldn't breathe! She was going to drown! Sand, cut off! Sinking! No! NO! NONONONONONONONO!


	6. Chapter 6

Doflamingo's burst of energy petered out, and he sank down, both knees hitting the floor with the loud 'thud' of his full weight as he crumpled. But he heard- raspy, quick breaths. Panic breathing. He'd know, he'd gone through it many a dark night.

He turned around, shakily, useless eyes squinting in the direction of the sound as he reached out with one hand, searching. "...Alex?"

"D-d-don't..." She stammered, scrabbling back, still panicked, but her voice had dropped, barely above a whisper, like she thought that if she was quiet it would be more effective than if she was screaming, or...

As though she knew by heart that screaming wouldn't do any good.

He stopped. Oh, god no. He _knew_ that sound. Any voice, any tone, anything else, no, please not that! Not the voice of a boy beaten within an inch of his life for the fiftieth time and already knowing there was no mercy to be had no matter how he screamed to please the master.

His face crumpled, and so did the rest of him. Everything he'd been holding back, everything, flooded him all at once and he curled into as tight a ball as he could, there on the floor, as echoes rebounded through his head. The breakdown he'd been trying so hard not to have hit him all at once and his panic-breathing joined hers.

For ages, there was no other sound than their harshly out of sync rhythms and the tiny, almost inaudible keens he made twining with the whispers of sound she made.

Something glimmered. On the edge of consciousness, but there, and Don raised his head, eyes squinting. What was...?

It was something... thin. And... shiny? And the harder he looked the more of them there seemed to be. Like... strings. Strings that had a shape. They curved in strange ways, fell around and gathered in oddly—

He realized what he was seeing at the same instant he ceased to panic. He was _seeing strings_. And the spell his blindness wove over his mind broke, instantly, because when he could 'see' he was not that ten-year-old still seven years of abuse away from freedom.

He scrambled to his knees and realized the shape he could only so-vaguely make out was Croc, pushed up against the wall.

"Alex," he called for her. "Alex. Alex look. Look at me," he was almost whispering. And he kept his eyes fixed on the only thing he COULD 'see'- the thing he wanted to see most. Her.

She shook her head, barely. If she kept her focus on the spot, on the speck of dirt that was in front of her nose, she wouldn't die, she could breathe, they wouldn't do it again, she'd be safe. She rocked slightly, back and forth, the picture of someone trying to hide from something that they couldn't escape. She was muttering, under her breath, half-whispered pleas that she tried with gritted teeth to stop from escaping. Things about men, and their hands, touching, grabbing, pulling, forcing.

"Alex." His voice strengthened, firmed. "Alex, look at me. Please. I'm not going to touch you, I promise. Not now. So please, please look at me." He inched a little closer. "There's nobody here but me. Please, Alex, look up."

She did, her eyes haunted, drawn, angry, and... the one thing Don thought he'd never see in her... fear. She spoke again then, the words pouring out of her like vomit, "He stopped them. He convinced them that he could break me so they'd back off. I didn't know who he was, but I knew his voice. He told me what to do to make them stop. But then... but then they... they found out who he was... who he belonged to, and they cut him down. They were going to kill him. But Blueno. There was a door. Opened up. And Ivankov. Here. Too late. Too late. Too late. Don...."

He reached for her- stopped, at the last second, and put his hand on the floor instead. "He's alive. You're alive. And I'm here. I'm not good for much..." his eyes met hers for the first time since arriving, "but I'm here for you."

The girl should have been a powerful, strong, commanding man, and deep within the pit of her soul that man was fighting tooth and nail to regain control of a body he didn't recognize or want. Her hand scooted forward unclenching finally, at least a little bit, and her fingers brushed his, trembling and strangely dry.

"M-m-make it st-st-stop, Don... make it stop... I can't..."

He reached forward- slowly, gently- and gathered her up in his arms, bringing her up against his chest but leaving her back open so she could retreat if she needed to, and he gently kissed her forehead. "I'm right here now, Alex. I'm all yours and nobody can take me. Focus on me, okay? Focus on me. Shhhh. They can't touch you anymore."

If anyone tried, they would die a horrible, painful death at his hands.

And if he found whoever did this, they would die a painful, BLOODY death and he didn't care what the consequences were.

She simply let him hold her for a while, a self-indulgence she'd been acquiescing to since he arrived really, because his touch was distinct enough that it chased away the ghosts of lesser men. Soon her shivering stopped, and she was able to close her eyes without seeing their faces, their voices fading from her memory for the moment, and though she felt rent open, exposed in ways that she had never been before, she was calm again, the collected mentality that was her comfort against the cruelty in the world back in the forefront of her mind. However, with it came another surprise.

"I'm sorry, Don. I didn't mean those things. I know how badly you despise being you sometimes."

He kissed her temple. "I'm sorry for exploding. I'm sorry I brought my own issues up."

She didn't deserve to be reminded of his old, hidden hurts when she had her own, much worse in his estimation, hurt to handle.

"Promise me you won't go hunt him down. He did what he had to do to keep it from being worse. It isn't his fault things got out of hand."

She fingered the scars around her mangled wrist, sorely missing her hook. It was just one more layer of dressing down that this stint of imprisonment had done to her. Her clothes. Her powers. Her weapons. Her gender. Her sense of sanity. The very things that she felt made up who she was, and Impel Down had taken them from her, bit by painful, excruciating, bit. She leaned against him, physically exhausted from the episode, and the room was noticeably cooler again.

She glanced down at her lap and noticed the dehydrated bread crumbs scattered about, mummified to within an inch of being dust. She poked one caught between two folds of fabric in her pants, and it disintegrated.

Her eyes went wide, "Don!"

His eyes— _his eyes_ went from her lap up to her face.

"Yes, Alex." He grinned. "Yes. You did do that."

A gasp tore from her and her hand came up to touch his face, "You can SEE!"

"Only a little. The barest glimmer," he warned. "I'm still next to helpless. I can't see anything more than a foot from my nose. But it's something."

The ramifications of just what that meant ran through her like an electric shock, the gears of her mind tumbling together like the well-oiled cogs of a clock, and a subtle shiver ran down her spine. The smile started slow, curling the edges of her mouth, and grew until her full namesake grin split her lips and showed off her teeth with a light in her eyes that spoke of the early days of Baroque Works when everything was coming together and the parts of her master plan were falling into place.

"We're gonna get out of here, Donny. Just you wait and _see_." She laughed.

He kissed her scar and grinned right back. There was something he loved about when Crocodile showed his teeth. "Of course. They really should have known better than to throw all the powerful Devil Fruit users into Impel Down, in the same general area, and then treat us all like shit so we all want to overthrow them. Bad strategizing," his tone became mocking, "Law had better ones when he was just a brat."

"Oh no no no. Dear Donny, you didn't notice because you were injured and handicapped by the stone. They _tried_ to keep us separated. They didn't anticipate we'd work _together_ to get out." She settled in a little more comfortably. "Mugiwara has a plan, but we need to bide our time until all of the players are in place. We're waiting for a few very specific Fruit users. You were one of them, though to be honest, I don't think any of us actually expected you to get caught until you had. I was taken in the first wave, I told you it had begun to wear off, so I let them have me. Daz and the Hellhound followed. Because we knew they already had Ivankov and the other Revolutionaries. The Pipe Crew was here, living as rats in the tunnels when they brought in CP9. That was our first glimmer of hope. Then the Strawhats invaded deliberately."

She paused to look up at him.

"That's when he intervened. They hadn't been able to actually touch me, but he came and he integrated himself with them, and told them he could handle me, teach me to be a 'proper lady'." She shivered, but safe in her lover's arms, her panic stayed behind the walls she'd built to contain it, "He spoke with me when he was making a show of it, explained who he was, why he was there, and apologized for having to do what he was doing. It made it easier. But they weren't happy with it only being once or twice. Before he was discovered, they had him take me three or four times a week. By the time Ivankov and Mugiwara had this place established, it was too late. They'd figured out he wasn't actually breaking me as he said he was, which was my fault; I let my temper get the best of me. My biggest weakness, eh?" She chuckled, a slightly higher-pitched version of her usual sardonic laugh, and pressed forward with the story. "They'd already cut him down when Blueno opened the door beneath our feet. I don't think I've ever been so concurrently relieved and infuriated in all my life. The rest is somewhat history, because the others trickled in, one after another after another. It was when White Hunter and his friend, the cage-cage woman, showed up that we realized what was happening. That was when Mr. Prince and Sunday made the list. After the rest of them show up, we're taking the government down."

The last she said in a determined growl.

Don listened patiently and nodded slowly. "Your short temper always was your downfall," he admitted, and then he smiled. "We're going to make them pay, Alex. We're going to make them beg for mercy and I, for one, will laugh in their faces and ask where it was when it was us in need."

"You do make revenge delicious, love." She grinned again, sadistic and cruel. "I want to watch their faces when their limbs turn to dust before their very eyes. They will _rue_ the day they decided to turn against us, and I will _gladly_ spend the rest of my life ensuring it!"

He nuzzled into her hair. "And I'll be right behind you," he purred happily.

It was a short time later when Robin closed her book. Ordinarily that would not have been a big deal, but with the way their security system was set up, it was a sign.

"Luffy, we have new arrivals to obtain."

The rubber man blinked around the soup bone he was sucking on and tried to talk only to wind up choking on it. His brother, though laughing the entire time, smacked him across the back with an open palm that had the bone flying out of his mouth. His tongue whipped out to snag it and slingshot the thing back between his teeth. He gave a huge grin and chomped it a few times. There really wasn't enough to go around if he satisfied his usual monstrous appetite, so being aware of that more than he ever let on, the man who would be Pirate King satisfied his cravings by chewing on things. Usually bones but sometimes Sabo's pipe, much to the amusement of his crew, and the frustration of his brother.

This time though, he spoke around the treat in a garbled question that was supposed to be, "Who're we rescuing this time? Icy, Him, Blinky, or Jinbe?"

Robin smiled at her captain's antics, glad that his sense of humor was retained, even if it was mostly slapstick theatrics to entertain their growing masses. "I believe it to be, as you so kindly put it, 'Icy', but I will have to get closer to be certain."

Aokiji looked into the bowels of the prison they dared to put him in and spat. He was normally easygoing, normally laid back, but first he lost the fight for Fleet Admiral to Akainu, and then they turned on Devil Fruit users anyway! He was also particularly displeased with their arrogance and disregard for him as a person- he'd lost his left leg in that fight and they hadn't so much as given him a cane when they put these damnable cuffs on him.

In short, the ice-man was quite burned through his usual chill.

The back of his cell opened and the footsteps coming through the sound echoed slightly. "One good turn deserves another, does it not, Kuzan-san?"

The archaeologist smiled from the shadows and crossed her arms, growing him a leg—granted her leg but it was functional at least—and gestured with one hand disembodied from her person for him to follow her.

He smiled- this, at least, was simple and familiar and his usual calm settled over him as he got up and began to walk, limping a bit so he didn't put too much pressure on her leg.

"I appreciate the hand- or foot, rather," he chuckled as he paced along after her gamely.

As soon as the door closed behind him, she began to speak, "We've been expecting you, and if we'd had the ability to get a word out, you'd have been warned. Are you injured, beyond the capacity for your power and your missing limb?"

"Nah, though thanks for checking. I knew it'd be stupid to resist so I just came along. No point in losing the other limbs."

She smiled and nodded. "Others were not so lucky, or intelligent. We have few rules, seeing as we are essentially a band of pirates, though there are two. You must swear allegiance to Luffy, and agree to not cause trouble. As soon as the others have arrived, we will be taking back what they have stolen from us, but in order to do that, everyone must be in accordance with the plan. Loose cannons could bring about unnecessary complications."

Her tone implied that she was sure he already knew all of this, but had to state it out loud anyway because they gave the speech to every newcomer to the rebellion. She wasn't even looking at him really, merely walking, relaxed, beside someone who had at one point been in direct opposition of her very life.

He just smiled, perfectly relaxed. "Hey, sounds like just my kinda place. Don't start trouble and let someone else be the boss and worry about the details. Which part of that is for you?"

A throaty chuckle accompanied her sweetest smile when she turned to him, "I get to get my hands on the person who dismantled my husband."


	7. Chapter 7

"Papa?" The knock on the outside of the alcove's curtain was different than any other that had been heard up to that point, and the voice was new as well, familiar and strained, but previously unheard. "Law says you're free to get up now, and a couple of us have a room set up. I was thinking maybe we could spar a little?"

Don sat up with a sort of abruptness he'd managed to avoid during his entire recovery and pulled painfully on the new scar tissue. "...You're here too?" He rose and pulled the curtain aside, looking down at something that hurt him right down in the gut wound. "They got you too, Bel?"

"Ah." The hyena ducked his head a little, "They... sorta got the whole family." He looked like he'd been kicked and that Don was going to be angry that most of everyone was there. "Luffy said that... after they went after Fishman Island, people started just giving up. Um, good news is they're starting to run out of space, yeah? So, they'll have to stop soon, right? Maybe the others will get lucky?"

Don's head twitched to the side. "No. They'll just start killing instead," he said bitterly, stepping out and one hand coming down to ruffle the young man's hair. "People with lesser known or less dangerous fruits, they'll kill them when there's no more room. But on the bright side..." He smiled lopsidedly, "if the whole family's here, then it'll be all of the Donquixotes participating and getting a taste of the blood of revenge when we tear this shithole and those who run it down to the roots."

"Um. Sugar's missing, and no one's heard anything of Violet either." Bellamy leaned into the touch but was clearly still worried. "Baby's here though, and the Hellhound."

He fell silent for a bit, and bit his lip, shifting from foot to foot with a tiny springing motion that didn't seem to be conscious. His brows furrowed and he looked like he was trying to remember something, but couldn't. So he settled for bouncing.

"Sugar is most likely somewhere with an army of toys to play with and enjoying breaking them. That one can take care of herself quite well. Violet probably went back to her original family. They can offer her more protection than I can right now," he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. Then he grinned and used one hand to tip Bellamy's chin up. "Hey. Wanna do your Papa a huge favor?"

Though his eyes said 'anything', Bellamy's smile was a carbon copy of the puppetmaster's, "What ya thinkin' about?"

"I'm thinking that two months flat on my back makes for locked-up joints in an old man. And I'm also thinkin' I could use my best spotter."

Now, the smile reached his eyes and the spring-loaded male threw his head back with purpose. "That's what I was thinkin' when Bro told me you was up for anythin'."

Don’s own eyes crinkled in the corners, visible past the glasses.

"Well then, let's go! I'm stiff as a board though- we'll have to start off with... ugh... baby stretches all over again," he groaned theatrically.

He hated started over after a major injury, hated it. It could take him weeks to get back to prime shape.

"I have the perfect place! C'mon!"

Bellamy literally bounced, taking Don's hand, and pulled him towards the other side of the common room with all the excitement of a puppy. A couple of thugs that didn't matter much tried to make a comment but the hyena snarled at them, coiling his legs slightly. Clearly for all that he was willing to bend over backwards for his 'father' there was no question that he was still ruthless, because they scampered out of the way without even so much as a question.

The room to which the shorter blond took him was round, smoothed out by someone's Devil Fruit much as the rest of the place had been warped and carved, and lined with strange indentations. The very texture of the room seemed to be odd, random handholds, tiny target-type holes scattered about, and parts of the walls going up were wider than others, sloping or pinching or curving in various different directions. There was a rack of woven mats next to the door on the outside of the room and it seemed like there really was no singular purpose to it.

"This is the gym. A couple'a guys from the New World carved it so that practically any fruit user could practice with it." Bellamy strutted into the place like he'd come up with the idea, "Luffy's got this plan about the seastone. The more you work with it, the stronger you get! Everybody wears it. What ya think?"

"I think it's very smart of his archaeologist," he said, gamely letting Bellamy lead and watching him strut like a little peacock. "Especially since it definitely works. And that will destroy the only handhold over us the Marines have- well, except, y'know. Barrels of actual seawater. And the sea itself."

Then he dropped into a fighting stance- hand to hand, at which he and Bellamy both excelled.

"Now c'mon. Let's get me warmed up so we can actually work me and stretch me out without some ligament snapping. Law nearly killed me the last time I skipped a warm up."

"Hehehehe. Yeah, Bro would rearrange my springs!" The hyena laughed, bringing his fists up to guard his face.

He'd been there a while, because the light of the room glistened from the cuff on his wrist, in spite of his being able to easily access the coils of his Devil Fruit powers. He balanced his weight on the balls of his feet and nodded for Don to come at him.

The 'spar' portion of the program went pitifully quick- if it could even be called that. A shade of grappling, maybe ten minutes of wrestling on the floor and Don had to call it quits on the warm up. He was heavy and slow, hampered by the pull of delicate new scar tissue, not to mention pulling his punches because it was Bellamy. So they moved quickly on to the real thing Don needed- yoga-like stretches. His flexibility suffered heavily when he didn't stretch, and he'd gone two months without even minor stretches and it showed. He couldn't even touch his toes; his hamstrings had contracted so much.

That's what he needed Bellamy for. The younger man was very good at both knowing where Don's limit really was, and just how far to ignore Don's protests of 'ow fuck that hurts dammit' before he really WOULD hurt him. And Bellamy's physical strength was handy, since he could literally push Don that extra inch forward and hold him.

When the 'baby stretches' as Don called them were done, it was time for another 'spar' to cool down. That one was more pins and panting than anything else, with a little wrestling thrown in, and when it was done, Don lay on his side for a minute to catch his breath.

He'd 'turned off' his string sight for the moment. It was stronger, but still not strong enough, and for the spar he was in constant physical contact, so it had just been a distraction. Propping himself on his elbow, he turned to Bellamy and grinned.

"Hey. You got my blood all hot. Make it up to me with a kiss?"

The younger blond man blushed furiously and glanced around, "You know I can't tell you no, Papa."

Secretly thrilled at all the attention he was getting, Bellamy leaned in happily to capture Don's mouth, both eager to please and grateful for the chance to do so. Ever since the Skypiea debacle, the hyena had been more submissive, intent on proving that he really was worth Don's time, and moments like this, where he was asked for something specific, which was where he felt all of his hard work paid off. But there was one thing both blond pirates had forgotten, there was no door on the gym, meaning everyone in the common room could see what was happening.

It wasn't the most mind-blowing, as kisses went. Don kept it gentle, and sweet. Only the barest tease of tongue, and it didn't last too long either. But it was good. It worked like a pressure release valve- the building up need that had been accumulating in Don's lust centers for the past two months eased slightly. And while they didn't break away panting, not more than the mild workout left them, it was enough. Then Don pecked his forehead and flopped down flat.

"And now cuddles," he declared. "Because I hate being cold and you are a little heater."

Bellamy gladly curled up on top of him. If he'd have been a cat, he'd have purred. Now relaxed, he struck up unimportant conversation, going over the state of things, how strong people were becoming, how little the seastone affected the ones who'd been in it the longest, and other such points that really, as head of the family, Don needed to know. All the while unaware that they were being observed.

She growled, grinding her teeth and snarling. How DARE he!? RIGHT in front of her! HOW DARE HE!? Did they not know? Were they blind? How could they have not realized what was going on? What was it like, living in the mind of someone so stupid?! She fumed, tugging on her shirt and stormed off, heading for the Strawhats' alcove. Fine. If he could find comfort somewhere else, so could she! Oh how she longed to be able to clench both hands into fists, and more, that her shirt would stop riding up.

Someone snickered and she lashed out, grabbing him up by the front of his shirt so that he was nose to nose with her, "Is something funny?" He shook his head, quivering in fear, and she dropped him. "I didn't think so." She sneered, "Pathetic," and tossed her head, her hair far too long for her liking.

"Something the matter, Aly-chan?"

The Strawhats’ cook, attuned to any woman in distress but particularly to this one, stepped out from the curtain, twisting the straw he had in place of a cigarette. There was really no way for even the Pipe Crew to pick up unimportant things like smokes when there were medical supplies and food and water to sneak in.

"Anything I can do to be of service~?"

"First, thank Ra you aren't spouting off those ridiculous hearts for once." She rolled her eyes, to keep them from being focused on his facsimile of a smoke, "And second, unless you can magically conjure clothing that will sufficiently cover your growing accident, no, you cannot help me."

He winced. "Perhaps we should _sit and talk_ ," he said slowly, eyebrows furrowing and smile a little tight. "In _private_."

For her to be talking about their mutual problem in public, she must be rather severely upset. As such, he needed to get her alone to actually talk to her and calm her down before she did something crazy, violent, or both.

"I don't see how that will solve the issue but fine. We can _talk_." She crossed her arms over her chest, winced with a hiss and dropped them with a growl of frustration, then stomped past him into the Strawhat alcove.

Usually she avoided actually entering the group's home but as she knew that most were out doing other things with other people, the only one she had to deal with was Robin, who glanced up at her, closed her book and took her leave, fully understanding her previous employer's mood was such that the privacy the sand user couldn't get in her own alcove was what she needed. The archaeologist gave an indulgent smile to Sanji and patted him on the shoulder as she left to find something to do away from where the storm was brewing. Croc paid her no mind and settled herself cross-legged on a pile of cushions that had been pilfered from the warden's office.

Sanji settled directly across from her, the straw flipping in his clever fingers. It was an old chef's habit- usually done with a knife, also done with anything short enough to flip. His smile dropped completely and he reached for her hand with his free one.

"Come on. I can tell you're not just angry, you're upset. Tell me what happened."

"Why should I talk to you about what's going on in my head?! I don't even talk to D—" She broke off with a huff. "I don't talk to anyone."

"And that would be the problem," he said gently. "Especially since the problem seems to be he-you-refuse-to-name-right-this-second. And I know very well how important that flamboyant, careless son of a bitch is to you. So come on, talk."

She seemed to refuse everything. She pulled her hand away, she wouldn't meet his eyes, her mouth drew up tightly, and she even seemed to fall back into the cushions to be as physically far away as she could get.

But after a few moments of silence she muttered, "It doesn't matter."

"It obviously does to you," he countered. "A burden shared is a burden halved."

He let her hand go, but he refused to let her run away. And he needed to know why he was kicking the shitty blond giant's ass before he went and did it.

"It really, really doesn't. It's always been like this, I would be stupid to expect it to change just because of the situation we're in. It's just never been in my face before is all, and I need your accident to stop making it an issue." She snapped, but then winced, looking down at where her shirt was bunched up, "Our accident..."

"While that's helpful in telling me your mental state- it's not telling me what the problem IS. I'd like to know _why_ I'm kicking in his ribs and sending him to the infirmary for another two months," he said mildly, ruthlessly ignoring her attempt at diverting the issue and reaching forward to bring her shirt down and cup her jaw. "Now tell me what he did."

The brush of affection seemed to be the last of it, because her entire face crumpled under his touch, tears she hated to shed driving down her cheeks without mercy. She ripped her head away from him, scrubbing furiously to make them stop. She hadn't cried since long before she'd eaten the Suna Suna no Mi, and under its influence she literally _couldn't_ cry. So, the utter betrayal of her body to listen to her only served to make her more upset.

He scootched in close- he didn't hug her, he didn't dare, but he held her face in both hands now. "C'mon, Aly. You're allowed to be upset. Now tell me why I'm about to go in there and kick him to kingdom come. Tell me how much I need to make him hurt."

"HE KISSED HIM! And they CUDDLED!" She wasn't the wailing type, but her voice wouldn't listen to her. She growled at the lack of control she had, "I hate this! I hate it. I hate it. I hate it!! You! With your ideas and your plans and your promises! You! You said I wouldn't have to stay like this! You said Ivankov would fix it! You promised!"

"I thought he would- soon, when he gets over your hormone-influenced sass, he will! But we can talk to him about regulating the emotional hormones, because otherwise you'll never keep your temper," he promised. "Now who did he kiss and cuddle? And why does it upset you so much?"

Something about what Sanji said shocked her quiet. "It won't hurt her will it?"

Don and his philandering seemed to have been forgotten for the moment, and Croc gladly latched onto a subject that wasn't attached to a wound she had refused to acknowledge for nigh on twenty years. Her hand actually fell to her stomach for a reason other than to pull her shirt down. Her palm splayed protectively over the bump that made all of her clothes stop fitting. Two months after Don's arrival, and almost exactly four weeks since their discussion about it, put Croc firmly in the middle of her second trimester. And beyond mood swings and cravings that she steadfastly refused to admit she was feeling, she had begun to develop a sort of bond that she had never spoken about out loud, but had kept her up at night, staring at this part of her that wasn't ever really supposed to be a part of her.

"Well... if he turns you back, yes," Sanji said slowly. "There's no equivalent organ in a male body to support her..."

He let that trail off. It was the sword of Damocles in the room, and both of them knew very well if she chose to become a man again, that the developing child would die.

"But something to balance out the hormones making you so moody shouldn't hurt her. After all, he knows what he's doing with hormones."

"I... don't want to hurt her..." For all that she hated the body she'd been born in, she couldn’t deny the little one a chance at life. "I know we haven't talked about it... I can't just kill her. It... it isn't her fault. What happened. Ruthless to my enemies I may be, but no child deserves that. I can't..."

"You wanted Iva to change you back before…"

"That's because I thought he must be mistaken! Not because I wanted to--!"

"Oh. So that's why he was so pissed with you."

"...yes."

He breathed a little sigh of relief. "That's- that's good to know. Thank you for saying that. It's nobody's fault, but I agree. She shouldn't have to pay for our mistake." He stroked the side of her face and sighed. "Now... why is kissing and cuddling forbidden enough to upset you so?"

"I don't want to talk about it." She shook her head. "Nothing ever changes. So it's pointless to discuss it."

"Don has proven startlingly obedient to you in recent weeks. Perhaps discussing it is exactly what is needed," he pointed out.

"He wouldn't understand. He's a creature of habit. He's always going to be restless, and I can't give him what he needs. Especially right now. Before you, in this body, I was a virgin." Her tone was resigned, and she amused herself, distracted herself, by calling a small _Sables_ in the palm of her hand. It was weak, and almost gentle, but she could do it in spite of both seastone and pregnancy draining her energy, which was the point. "I suspect less than a week before he'll have bedded every interested person in this place, male or female or anywhere in between. It's just what he does."

Sanji frowned, trying to digest all this. "...You might still want to talk to him. I'm certain you're his first choice- but perhaps he has reasons for not coming to you? I can't imagine if you outright asked him not to that he'd go ahead and do it."

"Asking him to not do it would be like asking you not to cook." She rolled her eyes at him. "No, I just need to busy myself somehow. Find something to do with my time so that I'm not tripping over him doing it."

Sanji winced. "That's not the way to deal with your problems, Crocodile. And you know it. At least bring it up to tell him to get a room."

She bit back the comment she wanted to make, but it danced in her eyes, the threat that if he pushed further she'd say it. "I am fine."

"You aren't," he asserted. "You _need_ to talk to him," he pushed.

"Right," She glared, "The way you talked to your swordsman before they caught him."

She was grateful that her size wasn't enough to hinder her ability to get up yet, because she surged to her feet and didn't even give the Strawhat chef a chance to respond, she stormed out of their alcove, heading for her own. It was a low blow. She knew it, but was too prideful to actually say she was sorry. Everyone knew Roronoa Zoro was being held in a solitary cell at the bottom of the prison, so far down that the water pressure outside made the wall creak and groan ominously. They'd seen him, chained to the floor the way rabid elephants were, needles embedded in his back to cut off the nerves that controlled his large muscle groups. No one knew if they even fed him, and worse... the security level on him was such that even the Pipe Crew couldn't get to him. He was part of why they were waiting. And thinking about it had Croc wrapping her arms around herself as she ducked beyond her own curtain.


	8. Chapter 8

Don was there, curled up in the nest of blankets and dozing in the warmth, but at her entrance he woke, and sleepily raised his head. Something felt… off. Strange. Distressed? He flicked his string-sight back on and sat up, sweeping for her.

"...Alex?"

She froze, not ready to do this yet. "Oh." She looked away. "I thought you were busy with Bellamy."

"Nah. We finished sparring a while ago. Like I thought, it'll be weeks 'til I'm in shape again. Baby stretches for the next week, from the pull in my ligaments." He turned on his side, still unhappy about that. "He updated me on a buncha things and then I sent him off to get food and came back here. The heat from the pipes will keep me from being as sore tomorrow. And why didn't you tell me the Plumber's here?!"

"Ah. It hadn't come up. She joined up with the Pipe Crew, as ironic as that is." She shifted from foot to foot, looking about the alcove with a certain unspoken something that she obviously didn't want to show on the surface. "So, he's coming back here, is he?"

"Hm? Oh, no. He'll go back to his own after he eats, I assume. But when he told me he skipped breakfast I had to scold him and give him Captain's orders to eat," Don yawned, snuggling deeper in the blankets. "Hm. Heh. Heh heh. Fufufufufu! The Plumber's in the Pipe crew," he giggled, finding that incredibly hilarious.

She relaxed by a margin and looked between the door and the bed, as if debating what she wanted to do. "You won't... um... promise me you won't bring them back here. Do what you want, just don't do it here."

He made quiet noises of confusion. "Ngh? Of- alright, of course, if you want me to. But... who am I not bringing back here? What am I not supposed to do?"

"The others. I know you'll be going after them. Especially as you get your flexibility back. All I ask is that you don't bring them back here. Treat this better than you ever treated my office."

He sighed, rolling onto his back. "Yeah, no problem. That'd be a pretty dick move after all. In the meantime, what I do myself is totally allowed in here right?"

"What do you mean?"

She sensed that she'd said something wrong, and as much as she wanted to remain standing, her ankles and the nerve that ran down the back of her leg said otherwise. So, she gave in and sat on the bed next to him.

He curled closer around her hips. "When I do those kinds of things for myself. Which, once I'm flexible enough again, I'm so gonna do. Those are allowed in here right?"

"I suppose." She was tense. As loathe admitting it as she was, she knew Sanji was right, and it made her grumble under her breath for a moment, before blurting, "Do you have to?"

"Do it for myself? Well no, but it's kinda worth the resulting backache."

Well, it was out there. She might as well talk about it, "No, I mean at all. Do you have to take others? Do you have to go after them?"

"Oh! Well. Probably not." He rolled onto his stomach, stroking his beardless chin thoughtfully. "But I would probably have to find my own alcove, and I really don't want to do that. After a while, I get irritable, snappish. Unless I jerk off like ten times a day." He shrugged. "Not a big deal. I can take care of myself well enough."

She deflated. It always came down to that. "Yeah. No, I understand. It's what you have to do. Forget I said anything. I told the cook this was a stupid idea."

"I don't _have_ to. It's just more comfortable," he corrected simply. "I can easily hold off." He leaned up and kissed her cheek.

"No. I don't want you to go out of your way, make yourself uncomfortable for me. I've never expected you to change and I'm not about to start now. So, it doesn't matter. Do what you like. Just don't bring it home where I have to put up with it." She gripped the bed, the increase in her breathing and heart rate betraying her that she was lying.

He sat all the way up and took her jaw in both hands- like Sanji did, and yet, so, so very different. His hands were so much bigger, warm from the metal bed and the pipes, and the raised and dotted skin of callous and scar tissue on them pressed a long-familiar pattern into her skin as he pressed his lips to hers. Chaste, gentle, sweet, and only lasting a second or two, it was the first time he'd braved her wrath to kiss her in this form. He also planned it to be the only time he did so.

He smiled lovingly when he parted from her, the busted lens he refused to cast off catching a stray bit of light and twinkling.

"What I like is making you happy. So you shush about that 'don't go out of your way' nonsense. Abstinence isn't _that_ hard, y'know."

"D-don't." She whispered, clinging to sanity with the death grip of her namesake, "Don't tease me, Don. Lie to me, cheat on me, betray me a thousand times, but don't, don't ever hold that sort of thing in front of me and not mean it. Don't you dare."

He huffed. "Of course I mean it, silly. You know I wouldn't offer it if I didn't mean it. If you want this relationship to be a closed one- I can do that. And if I ever get to a point where I don't think I can anymore, I'll talk to you first."

"You've... you've never been okay with this before. Why now?"

She was relishing the touch on her skin, and she didn't open her eyes or move from the position she'd been in when he kissed her. As though she felt that if she moved everything would shatter around her and what she was being offered would turn out to be something far more vicious than anything that had happened between them before.

"Because you indicated you want it from me," he replied simply. "Before, you've always been so dead-set against changing me- which I appreciate, don't get me wrong, one of the many things I adore about you is that you're smart enough to know you can't 'fix' or 'change' another person by force- that you've never asked, or indicated, you'd prefer I not play with anyone else at all. Now you've made your preference clear."

She took a deep breath, "At least... while we're here, and it's in my face, and I have nothing to bury myself in to ignore it. Are you sure you can do that?"

Her instincts told her not to believe him, that she'd only be hurt and disappointed, because that's all she ever was when she asked for someone to give her something. If she took it by force, she knew she could obtain it, control it, ensure it, but when she asked. When she truly wanted something. The answer had always, ever, been no. She didn't think Don understood exactly what he was offering, but her heart was too tired from the ups and downs to guard against it. She was quivering again, holding onto the very edges of her control, and still unable to look at him for fear of losing that precious margin.

"Yes. As long as you don't forbid self-pleasure, because if I can't even do that I would probably crack in two days," he added with a little chuckle. "And maybe you give me a kiss once in a while?" He knew he could do it, but if she'd give him those two things it would make doing it infinitely easier.

"Kiss you?" She sounded lost, and she blinked at him. "Why would you want to kiss me? I'm hideous."

It was his turn to blink. "...Alex," he said as patiently as he possibly could. " _I'm_ supposed to be the blind one."

"No, you're supposed to be the one that will fuck anything with a sentient mind," her brows drew together and she curled away from him a little. "Though maybe being blind is part of it. I am soft in places I should not be soft. I have things I shouldn't, and don't have what I should. My hair wants to do this thing where it gets into my face, and don't get me started on the pregnancy, because that just makes things worse! I'm a bloated caricature of what I am supposed to look like, how could you _possibly_ want to kiss me?!"

"Because you're you. Your hair has always gotten into your face, that's why you grease it back," he pointed out. "It's from how dry it gets thanks to your fruit and you know it. Sure, you're a bit softer in odd places, with a little extra skin and a little more cushioning here and there, but it's not like that's going to disgust me. And so what, you don't have a dick? You don't want sex, so it only matters insofar as you have to sit down to pee right now. As for the pregnancy...."

His hands slid down her body, skimming her sensitive breasts to rest both warm palms on her stomach.

"There's a tiny little life inside there. And it's going to be strong and beautiful, just like its Papi. And possibly like its daddy, if those genes show up. There is absolutely no reason I would want you any less."

"...she." Croc murmured, leaning minutely into his arms.

"Oooh, you know it's a girl already? I'm sure she'll grow up just as ruthless as Papi," he purred, leaning in and pecking her cheek.

"That's... that's how I knew you were... I saw... with Bellamy... I was coming to tell you. Law said she's healthy, if underfed... but you were there, and he was curled up on top of you, and... I owe Sanji an apology." She sagged against him, suddenly exhausted from everything. "And I don't not want sex. I just know if I tried, you'd split me in half."

He nodded. "Ah. With Bel, I'm wary of his inability to tell me 'no'. All we did was have one kiss and a little snuggling. And there is such a thing as femdom and pegging, you realize? But if the baby is a little underfed..." He frowned, head tipping back to stare at the ceiling while he considered and turned possibilities over in his mind for a few moments. "...We needa talk to the puppy and her Plumber."

"I _know_ all you did was snuggle with him. That's the point." She growled, ignoring the rest of it.

He blinked. "...Ok now I'm confused again."

She looked up at him, "If I'm not hideous, why am I not enough?"

His frown returned. "...why would you think you're not enough?"

"Because you go running after all the others. I..." She hiccupped, trying to swallow it down, reject it, deny it. "I've never... never been enough."

He tilted his head. "Well... yes. You are. I just didn't want to smother you- after three or four rounds you get sore, and after about three hours of snuggling you go numb in places. You're totally enough- but you'd suffer for it. That's why I've always spread myself around, so nobody gets overwhelmed or hurt."

It always came back to that, Croc's stamina versus Don's. She looked away, sighing, "That's why I said it didn't matter. Just... forget I brought it up."

He made dissenting noises immediately, catching her chin with his hand. "No, no, it does matter. It matters to you." He dropped a kiss on her cheek. "I can do it."

"It's never mattered before, and I don't know that it won't matter again as soon as my mind stops acting like I'm insane all of the time." She huffed.

He shrugged. "That will be then. This is now, and it matters right now." He snuggled himself back into the blankets, pulling her closer. "We can make it work."

In spite of herself, the sand user curled up on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. After a while, she broke the silence, "Mr. Prince wants to kick your ass for earlier."

"And I want to kick Mr. Prince's ass for getting you pregnant," he replied dryly. "So we're even."

"He didn't do it on purpose." Croc rolled her eyes.

"Don't care. He touched you, I want to break both his legs and bend his knees backwards," he growled, the sound coming up out of the bottom of his chest.

"Don. If he hadn't we'd have both been killed." She sat up, glaring at him. "Don't make me have to fight between you to keep you from attacking each other. I may get jealous, but I _never_ actually go after any of your playthings, regardless of circumstances."

"Which is why the man continues to live now," he sighed, tilting his head back. "I'll not fight him- not on that count. No matter how much I want to."

His hand stroked through her hair idly.

She wasn't satisfied; it was a burr under her scales, irritating and unreachable. "You don't understand. You weren't here. No powers. No hook. In the wrong body. They thought I was a playtoy! Something to be shoved against a wall and fucked until they were through with me, regardless of my opinion on the matter. I couldn't _do_ anything, in spite of towering over several of them. They had tasers. I'm a logia user, Don, do you know when the last time I actually felt pain without my sand protecting me!? But he was there. He got into their ranks somehow, tricked them into thinking that if he took me while the others watched I'd somehow be cowed and they'd finally get somewhere with me. He made them stop, Don. He stood between them and me. Promised me he'd get me here, and get back my body. So I let him. Put on a good show for the audience and let him take me. The _bambina_ was an accident! _He's not the bad guy here!_ "

"I know he's not," he said quietly, and though he wasn't shouting this time there was a strange sense of seething rage, roiling just beneath his skin. "But I can't go after the real evil until Strawhat makes his move, and until we get his first mate free..." His molars ground against each other. "And the only one I can reach isn't the real bad guy but he's the only one in reach and even though I know he's not the person deserving of it, my anger focuses on him anyway because he's available."

His fingers twitched. When they moved forward, when he was free to pursue them—

He wouldn't even give them the dignity of his strings.

"Promise me you won't hurt him." The expectant woman kneeled on his arm, her teeth still bared. _"Promise me!"_

Something in Don, way down deep in his gut, in his chest, cracked straight down the middle and shattered. Something he hadn't even known was fragile and vulnerable. But all it took was that one demand, and it broke.

Because Croc knew, _knew_ how he was about his promises. A promise was as binding as a band of seastone around his neck; once he'd given his word he would not break it for anything on pain of death. Crocodile had never, NEVER asked him for a promise.

And she didn't even ask it on her own behalf.

But he was skilled- very, very skilled- at hiding what hid in the darkest corners of his soul, and there wasn't so much as a flicker of any of it across his face. In his eyes, there might have been- something- but he had his glasses on from the spar.

His expression was perfectly smooth as he tilted his head to the side in obedience to her will.

"Alright. I promise that I will not hurt Mr. Prince, also known as Blackleg Sanji of the Strawhats. I promise you that I will not bring harm upon that man." And his voice- not flat, because he knew that would be a dead giveaway- was soft and solemn.

"Thank you." She wilted, and moved back.

Some part of her must have known what she'd done, because she didn't lay back down to cuddle. She drew her knees up and rubbed the one she'd used on him like she'd been cut. There was even a fine line of red in her skin through a hole in her pants. It wasn't broken, but it looked like she'd been kneeling on wire for a while. She was uneasy, and she swallowed nervously. Call it instinct, or intuition, or some long forgotten memory that she couldn't quite grasp but felt the effects of nonetheless, but a knot of fear had been tied in her stomach that she couldn't ignore.

"Think... I think I'm gonna go get a drink." Her tongue trilled the R and she stood unsteady on her feet, her eyes on Don the whole time as she left the alcove.

"I'll just... be here," he replied a bit lamely.

He suddenly felt peculiarly... unraveled. He swallowed, throat feeling thick and uncooperative. He felt so very strange, he felt...

Hollowed out inside.


	9. Chapter 9

"Don?" Crocodile called tentatively, before she opened the curtain.

The sight that greeted her was expected, but no less painful than it had been the first time. Nothing. No note, no feathers, no wrinkles in the blankets. Nothing. Not a single sign that her other heart was anywhere near or had been since she'd left hours ago. Almost two weeks, and the sand user had begun spending more and more time with the sire of her child even if they didn't have the same relationship. Or any relationship really. Just so she could be not alone. Law didn't approve. He scowled more when she went in for her checkups, but he said nothing about it. There was an air of something having happened, but no one spoke about it. She offered nothing and the others didn't press her.

She sat on the bed, leaning back on her hand with her stump resting on her belly. There were few bigger than her so most of the time over the course of the last fourteen days, she'd begun wearing a modified haramaki, made from one of her own shirts with the sleeves added to the girth for room to grow. She pushed this down and rubbed a sore spot with the underside of her arm. She wished she could comfortably reach her feet, and she groaned when she lay back against the pillows so she could prop up the aching appendages, minus her shoes.

She was silent for a while, just existing in the place between pain and the steadily increasing strength of movement from her midsection. Then she gave in, satisfied that no one was going to follow her, or that anyone was listening.

It started as a whimper, and became a keen as rain coursed over her face. She rolled onto her side, clutching a pillow that was in no way a substitute for what she truly wanted, but it was pink, and that was what mattered about it. She began to mutter to herself between ragged breaths.

"What have I done? What have I done? Chased him away. Too clingy. Too needy. Too much. Not good enough. Never good enough... just come home... please? I... need you... I can't do this alone... Please Donny... come home..."

And then the bed heaved beneath her.

There was a clatter, a bang of pipes against each other, and there was the sensation of something powerful hitting against the metal sheet that served as a bed platform, followed by a low curse in a faintly Germanic-sounding language- a language only one man in this prison spoke!

The part of the blanket that hung over the edge of the bed to hide the pipes beneath shoved outward as a long-fingered hand thrust out of it, and the whole bed heaved again while said hand was joined by the second and found finger-holds in the floor to haul on until a familiar head of blond hair popped out into the open, followed quickly by a long line of scarred back, arching to pop the joints as he emerged in full.

"'ut 'appen," he slurred, clearly still half-asleep as he dragged his legs out, "oo's 'urt?"

He was also stark naked.

"AH!" She screamed, and then screamed again when he was revealed. "AHH!"

She clutched the blanket to her as though she as the one exposed and her eyes kept darting from nude lover to the edge of the bed and back again, getting caught each time on the one thing that _really_ made him stand out from other men.

He knuckled at his eyes and yawned, still positioned between her and the door, though not really by design, as he swept out his strings and came up empty, except for her. All things were as it should be, so why was he awake...?

He spread his legs and leaned over until he could grab hold of the arch of his foot, bent practically in half as he stretched out the tight muscles and hamstrings. Being all crunched up between the pipes was hard on his legs especially, since they were positioned awkwardly AROUND said pipes and not in between them. So he did his morning cursory stretches before he stood up and cracked his back, skin still humming with warmth of the pipes- and though he couldn't see it, bright, burning red from the heat, pressed all over his body where he had been pushed against the pipes. He didn't have any physical burns, but there were very clear, VERY red impressions wherever he'd touched a pipe.

She took all of that in with a certain horrified confusion, a ball of anger and pain wadded in her midsection somewhere above the baby. It bubbled and it roiled, churning until finally it spewed from her lips in what was almost the same decibel as the Strawhat navigator, _"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN!?"_

He rubbed his eyes again, plopping down on the edge of the bed.

"Flexibility training in the gym, food scrounging, and under the bed," he said around another yawn.

"Two weeks you've been missing. No one said anything about seeing you. Missed meals. Sanji nearly had an apoplectic fit when you didn't turn up after a day. And I won't even go into what we've been through while you were gone. Do you even know how much you've been missed, you... you... you... I DON'T EVEN HAVE THE WORDS FOR WHAT YOU ARE!" She was sobbing, all of that hurt and anger that had been turned inward, exploded out at him. Uncontrolled and unfettered.

He sighed, reaching forward and running his fingers through her hair once, twice, before crouching down and fishing his clothes out from under the bed and getting dressed. It hurt to see her so upset, of course it did, it upset him to have caused her such distress—

But it was curiously muted. Distant. Like he was drugged or something. Everything felt very quiet and very unreal.

"Mmmm. Didn't figure it'd been that long. Sorry. Been sorting something out."

And judging by the haze still clinging to everything in his perception, he hadn't quite gotten it under control or figured out at all, but he supposed he couldn't work on it any longer.

Dressed now, he sat back down and pulled her into his chest.

She fought him, pushing at his hands and his chest. She didn't want to be cuddled. She wanted to stop hurting. Everything since she'd been arrested, since the hormones that made her male had started wearing off, everything hurt! She was so tired of hurting! But she was also uncoordinated, sleep deprived, underfed, and blurred with tears she couldn't stop. So, her efforts were futile, ending in her just collapsing against him. Were she more together she'd have picked up on the distance consciously, but she didn't, so what she felt was unconscious, and it only added to the ball of pregnancy-fueled-insanity that she'd been holding back for two weeks while he was gone. She was hurting, he was _wrong_ , and she couldn't fix it, or herself. So she did the only thing her body would let her do. She cried.

He didn't try to soothe her out of it, he didn't start shushing her or trying to get her to stop- he was very certain she needed this cry as a release valve the same way he needed kisses. Well, when he wasn't feeling so... peculiar anyway. So instead he rocked her, slowly and softly, petting her hair and murmuring soft encouragements.

His own head bowed over hers, glasses sliding down, eyes aimlessly unfocused. When she returned to her senses, that would be one of the clearest warning signs for her- he'd turned off his string sight and wasn't turning it back on. He couldn't muster up the willpower to waste his energy on it- he could not feel the fear which had originally spurred him to learn to use his strings like that in the first place.

For now of course, he pushed the glasses back into place and hummed soft assurances into her hair, refusing to let her pull away before she was utterly cried out.

She fell into a fitful sleep before she was fully finished, her body just didn't have the energy to support all of that stress on top of growing the new person. So she lost consciousness before any harm could come to either herself or her child. The images of her dreams had her twitching though, clutching reflexively at his shirt and whimpering, curled up into a tight ball protecting her middle. Behind her eyelids, she was alone again, raging against the bars of a cell, and a taunting voice echoed through her mind, 'he doesn't want you anymore, he never did'.

When she was asleep, he rearranged things, picking her up and holding her in his arms as he settled more comfortably on the bed and nested them both down into the blankets, tucking Croc up under his chin until he could turn her head to put his heart beneath her ear. Its beat was a slow, steady drum, and snuggled up with her, he was soon dozing off again himself, legs tangling up in hers and hands lacing the fingers over her stomach lightly.

She woke slowly, drained and feeling heavy. Warm, for the first time in fourteen and a half days—she'd counted—and the steady thump of his heartbeat under her ear. She rolled her head up to look at him, watch him. The exhaustion on his face, plain through the guise of sleep, stabbed her in ways that she had no guard against.

The sand user curled up tighter to him, and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Sleeping soundly, after all he had the person he most cared for with him now, he shifted a bit at the sound of her voice, but when no other sound was forthcoming settled again without waking. Of course, that made his ribs poke sharply into her soft torso- which they should _not_ have. He said he'd been making food runs- but how often, and where on earth was he getting it if not from Sanji? And if he'd gone to Sanji, the cook would DAMN well have told Croc!

She drew her hand across that span, counting the bones with her fingers. She had a layer of padding around hers now. All over really, a result of needing to nourish the life that depended on her, though she was still underweight. She watched his breath, unable to sleep any longer, though more tired than she had ever been. The press of decades of dancing around the truth, carrying the burden of her station alone, and keeping up the façade of the uncaring, aloof, greedy, crime lord; it all hung over her like a thunderstorm on the horizon, held at bay by sunny weather and hot air, but now... after so much, she felt herself buckling, giving in to the weight of it all, and finding a lack of concern that it should all fall around her into a million tiny pieces that she could never put back together. She wondered then, if she'd ever feel like herself again, instead of a broken marionette, tucked under the chin of a boy who couldn't do anything but play with dolls.

"What have I done to you? I don't... I don't understand." She murmured, "My mind... it... it fails me. I can't... remember things. You'd disappeared and I panicked. Certain I would lose the details of your face if I couldn't see them every day. It's hard to imagine sunshine, and wind, though Sanji compares me to it every chance he gets. I don't... know what I did. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry that I don't know too."

He shifted again, the powerful, if diminished, muscle moving beneath her hand until his covered hers and ran up her arm until it reached her neck to cup her chin- the way he had when he'd first been shackled and was helpless and blind.

"Don' worry s'much," he managed, yawning and slowly sitting up. "S'not good fer ya. M'right here. Never wandered far."

And he hadn't. He'd never been further away from their alcove in the past two weeks than the training room, where his faithful Plumber had delivered to him what food she managed to sneak on her own when not helping the rest of the Pipe Crew pull stuff off. He'd asked her because she didn't ask questions, but she didn't short-shrift anyone else either in her pursuit of her task. In Don's math, what she'd been able to bring him on her own was even smaller of portions than what he'd have been able to get if he'd been eating at Sanji's table, and since that was one more bit of portion going onto the plates of the others, as far as Don was concerned it evened up.

He was still very much broken inside- he couldn't fix it, and he had tried. So he continued to be numb, because he was needed and couldn't afford to degenerate in his own twisted emotions.

She followed him into a seated position, and studied him. "They're breaking the swordsman out soon. The other admirals have been caught, though... something..." She frowned in the manner of the easily frustrated, trying to remember, and failing, "Akainu... I don't... it was there, I know it was! I had it. Just yesterday I had it. Catalogued and organized to tell you when you ever came back. All the details of what has happened since you left. But... it's just... not there." She sounded defeated, forced into a corner and with no way out of it.

"Ah. I've heard tell of that. Call it pregnancy brain," Don said with a knowing nod. "You ain't talked t'Ivankov yet, 'ave ya?"

She shook her head, looking down at her hand, still splayed across his chest. She'd let her hair grow, unable to cut it actually, and it was plaited down the back of her head with a gentle weave that actually gave the illusion of feathers from above.

He clicked his tongue. "Oh my poor beloved. C'mon. We're seeing Ivankov about these out of control hormones right now. I can't imagine he can't regulate them without harming the baby." He leaned up and pecked her cheek, a lopsided smile managing to slink onto his face. "Why didn't you go?"

"I don't want to go out there. They see me like this and I have no respect any longer. Waddling around like some duck with an egg. How am I to be the fearsome warlord they used to see me as, if all they picture is this? Don't make me go?" She chanced a look up at him, and bit her lip. Damn those sunglasses.

His expression softened and this time he stole one from her lips. "Alright. I'll bring him here then."

She nodded, and kissed him back, clinging to his shirt. Then she slid from his lap, as much as she didn't want to, and let him get up to go get the Okama king. She would have said something like 'come back soon', or 'don't be long', but her pride, shattered as it was, clung to her mouth to keep her from sounding any more needy than she already was.

He gave a smile- and it seemed slightly off center, like he was only aware of his general direction and not exactly aware of where she stood- before disappearing through the curtain, taking a familiar path and following the distinctive hormone-pheromone cocktail stench of the Okama King.


	10. Chapter 10

It was a bit convoluted and mashed up though, once he'd stepped through the barrier. Everyone in the rebellion was milling about, chattering and hefting homemade weapons; extra pipes, a pair of scorched frying pans, sharpened broom handles, plastic broken off at a forty-five degree angle, and one sword, carefully concealed in a purple cane—though its owner was nowhere to be found. The puppetmaster's target was bouncing about on stage, flipping back and forth shouting "HEE HAW!" at the top of his voice, while the son of Dragon had his game face on. A ripple of Haki brought everyone to silence, and it held, heavy, and seeming to draw the crowd in...

Then he pumped his fist into the air, the rattle of seastone around his arm, and shouted, "LET'S GO!"

The impressive figure of Blueno appeared with a door that led down a hallway that was FAR too dark to be safe, and the mob surged through it, clamoring their weapons and yelling at the tops of their voices. The sounds of light, ice, smoke, and other powerful Devil Fruits echoed through the chaos, indicating that even if they'd been some of the last brought in, the admirals and high ranked soldiers from the marines had no trouble adjusting to life with seastone. This was war, and Don had returned just in time for it to happen.

The former shichibukai faced a crossroads, made all the more difficult by their recent separation: go back and tell her, or take his place among the fighters?

She would want to join them. Her sand was almost invaluable, impossible to match. Her planning skills flawless, when not under the influence of her hormones like this. But...

It only took him one second. But he turned, blew a kiss at the curtain he'd just come from behind, and advanced with the rest. He couldn't afford to waste time persuading her to stay behind, and...

Well…

When it came down to the wire, if there was a choice to risk her safety or his own...

Don's choice would _always_ be to risk his own…

Child or not.

Little did the flamingo know that from the shadows he was watched. Silent paws, and even more silent thoughts, the figure slipped beneath the curtain behind him. It was time.

What the army met on the other side of Blueno's door was a collaboration of the most rugged, ruthless, mundane pirates the Strawhats had ever seen. The trouble with them was that for every five Lucci clawed down, or dozen that fell to the shots of blinding light Borsalino threw, or even the battalion that choked to death, lost in the body of the White Hunter himself, there were always more coming. Power flew everywhere. A Gomu Gomu no Pistol sent a body into Shambles which brought the pieces around to be rampaged between giraffe and tyrannosaurus rex. In short, it was a brawl, a messy free-for-all that had everyone throwing their best at everyone who wasn't expecting it.

Somehow in the chaos, a blond body appeared next to Don's head, mid-Sky Walk, on fire and actually smoking for once, "Luffy is clearing a path to the door; we need you to break the lock. No one else has anything that can slice through metal and wood like your Razor Wire."

He pulled in all his 'nets', just having cleared them of their allies, and pulled them _through_ his captives with one quick yank even as he turned. "Coming. The faster we get this done and them to safety, the better!"

Sanji Sky-Walked over the heads of people in the midst of fighting others. Kid threw a sword, which gave him a perch for a moment. Then Capone fired a cannon ball, which gave him another. On and on until they reached the most fortified door either had ever seen. The chef landed on the stone facing the on-coming marines and guards.

"I have your back, just get my boyfriend out. Call it an eye for an eye if it makes you feel better about it."

Don couldn't even muster up a giggle. Normally he would have at the 'eye for an eye' comment, considering his eyes were useless unless he was employing his strings. But he wrapped every nuance of the lock in razor wires and yanked. It wasn't easy, he had to even saw it back and forth a bit, but once it dropped, he reached up and yanked the whole door open.

Inside was the swordsman, and he wasn't looking up at the sound of fighting, he wasn't straining to get out- and for a moment, Don was afraid he was dead- but he curled in his knees, hiding his face and eyes from the light. And he was shaking. Confused, Don peered around the room to try and figure out why.

Across the tiny stone room, partially hidden in shadow now that the light sources had changed, there was a pile of bones. Only bones. Salt-encrusted, and crumpled. The only characteristic that separated that particular pile of bones from any other broken skeleton... partially ripped away from the skull... a large, though limp and water-stiffened, afro in tight black curls that clung to the skull's cheekbones like inky tears from the sockets.

Don realized it for what it was and his heart stopped. No, nononono it couldn't be, it HAD to be something else- but the way Zoro was shaking and whining softly, he did know, and it was exactly what he was afraid of.

Don broke Zoro's bindings with a bit more razor wire and forced him to shaky feet. "Get it together, swordsman."

Zoro sagged, would have fallen if Don hadn't held him; Don slapped him as sharply as he possibly could.

"GET YOURSELF TOGETHER, ZORO," he bellowed, making the green-head cringe. "His spirit wandered fifty years, unfettered to anything, before he found his way back to his bones. Do you understand me?!" He shook him. "Scrub off the salt and he can come back, but first, your crew and your captain need you! Take him with you, tuck him into your haramaki- but get yourself together and GO!"

Blinking like a man just coming awake, Zoro did seem to understand, however faintly.

"Can- can still-" He stumbled to the pile of bones, but Don yanked his arm and pushed him outside.

"I'll take care of him- go to your fucking Captain!"

Zoro could only stagger onward, certain he'd collapse if he tried to turn, leaving the pink menace to collect up Brook in the softness of his coat and emerge with his razor wire braided into a whip he wielded expertly one-handed.

The battle raged on, Bison and Reindeer, Wolf and Hornet, Ice and Wax, Blade and Spine, and a thousand other different combinations of people clearing through what was starting to become the final push to get out instead of just the rescue operation it had appeared to be on the surface. Hundreds of Devil Fruit supporters, users of Haki, Fishmen, a couple of giants, joined the ranks as others broke open cells that had either been too well guarded or simply inaccessible from the shadows.

Then a sound of machinery coming together accompanied the cry of, "SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPER ME!"

With the help of one magnetism master the cyborg's parts flew from various different cells in a ring around the eighth floor. He pulled off a double front somersault and posed, bikini bottoms and all, in front of an imposing man. He had a thick mask over his face and _very_ familiar blades in his hands. As soon as Franky stopped moving the man's arm flashed out and a shockwave bounced through the magnetic energy. The cyborg, only being held together that way, fell to the ground, his head bouncing several times before being caught by his wife's phantom appendages.

"Oi! Not super!" He glared; even his nose button was missing.

"This will stop. Now."

The man's voice was almost toneless, as he stepped forward, his blades at the ready. A heavy ring of keys hung from his belt and bounced against his thigh, glinting in the dungeon lights.

"Who the fuck—"

Kid had turned, because he felt his power being fucked with, but when he did he stopped breathing for a moment. He stopped because he was suddenly hit with a punch to the gut that stole everything from him for a few seconds, because he was sure, absolutely positive, this would never have happened.

For what man expects a Nakama to betray him on such a scale as this?

"...Killer."

"I'm sorry, Captain. You all must return to your cells for further re-education." The former first-mate stepped forward again, and this time the badge of warden could clearly be seen on his suit. "Attempts to resist will be met with swift ramifications."

Kid crossed his arms over his chest. "...I dunno what they did to ya," he said slowly. "I dunno what they said, er th’ arguments they used, er what points they made, er what they've dosed ya with. But I know you're fuckin’ smarter than this." He hoped it was some sort of ploy, that he wasn't really ready to face off against his Captain, his best friend…

But he knew Killer, and the way he was talking now gave him the sinking feeling that he was dead serious.

“I'm sorry, Captain. The world has changed. Devil Fruits must be eliminated. Go back to your cells."

The long blond hair, once wild and free like the mane of a lion, was tightly bound into a braid from the edge of Killer's helmet down, and as he slipped into a ready stance, blade brought up for lightning fast reflexes, there was an almost eerie silence about him. Something like the sound of death. Except for a small, minute jingle, from somewhere hidden. His tone, his posture, his actions, everything spoke of just how intent he was on either being obeyed or shedding blood. But why would a captor apologize to his captives?

And if things were as they seemed…

_Why was he still calling him Captain?_

"Well, smartass, one problem. Or more accurately, one thousand." He gestured to the chaos all around them. "An' of course, the lil issue of goin' back to the cells ta fuckin' DIE. Re-education? More like 'how ta die in misery'. An' you're smarter than this, Killer. The Devil Fruits ain't never gonna STOP existin'. They'll just reappear again an' fall inta hands probably worse'n ours, or worse yet, be hoarded by the Marines an' World Government ta distribute t'those they see fit so they can terrorize th'populace from New World t'the Four Blues, win the war against Pirates entirely in the New World and turn th'whole of our world inta a festerin' cesspit cowerin' under the heel of the Celestial Fuckin Tyrannies themselves!"

He appealed to Killer's reason first because he was his Nakama, his brother, and because logic had been the only thing other than good rough bloodlust that mattered to Killer above almost everything but their own brotherly bond. And he did so before he actually engaged him because, for once in his life, he did not want to fight.

"I'm sorry, Captain." That time it seemed strained, "As I said the world has changed. The war is no longer against pirates. The war is against Devil Fruits and those that sympathize with them. As we speak there is a team of scientists working to destroy Devil Fruits entirely. Though it will be none of your concern, especially if you do not return to your cells at once."

The warden swung as if to hit, though the arc was wide and clearly more for show than actual damage. Anyone who knew Killer knew that the hit was faked, but there was surveillance that the Pipe Crew couldn't take down all over this hallway and the entire level in fact. There was no more time for talk, but then, before the red-haired supernova could respond an orange and white thing came streaking down the corridor, wailing at the top of his voice.

"I CAN'T DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!! CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!" The bear flopped to his belly at Law's feet, just off to the side from where Kidd and Killer were facing off. Tears poured down the ursine's face, and he clung to Law's jeans with desperation. "TAKE IT OFF! TAKE IT OFF CAPTAIN!!! MAKE IT STOP!!! I CAN'T! I CAN'T I CAN'T I CAN'T! CAPTAIN!!!"

Law collapsed to his knees to see his first mate, and Kid's magnetics sparked out of control even as he heard the surgeon asking, "Take what off, Bepo, what have they done to you?!"

Killer's blades dragged him back to the wall and trapped him there, metal pinned to metal shackle anchors, as Kid turned to the pink man. "Don, there's eyes we don't need down 'ere, gett'em!"

Don's strings swept the room, located the things they didn't want, the living things he knew the shape of well, and he started slicing them to ribbons.

"IT'S A THING! IN MY EAR!! AHHHHHHHHHH!!!! CAPTAIN IT HURTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!" The fur around his right ear began to change color, first pink and then darkening at an alarming rate.

Then Killer screamed, his hold on Kid released as he fell to the side clutching his head and ripping at his helmet. He was followed by Sarkies, Moji, Beckmann—even though his captain wasn't around where they could see the former Yonko, others who had at one point or another been held in individual cells but wielded no Devil Fruit, and finally Zoro gave a cry, shuddering at Luffy's side.

"Oi! Traffy! Fix it!" The rubberman couldn't seem to make sense of what was happening; only that apparently anyone who had at any time been named "first mate" among his fellows was infected with some kind of bug in his or her ear.

"ROOM!"

Law's time in the seastone and training room paid off- his Room spun out not only over Bepo, but every person in the room. A dozen strikes of his nodachi and the offending ears were floating before him. He started with Bepo's, as it was the largest, and cut it delicately in half with his scalpel, peeling it apart as he searched for the source of the pain.

Luffy floated, suspended because he'd been holding Zoro's ear at the time of the casting. He tried swimming but that did virtually nothing, especially as he didn't know how to coordinate to swim anyway. However, it did give him a unique perspective on the situation.

"Mah. Sanji. Are bugs meat?"

He held out a squirming centipede type creature with flashing orange jaws and a blinking red and green light on the end of its tail. It chittered and hissed like the static electricity from a transistor radio, and flailed its legs, wicked claws on each tip. Then it reached around and bit Luffy's thumb.

"OW!" The Pirate King whipped his hand, and the thing went flying, spasming and turning grey as it flew before shattering to dust against the wall. Luffy pouted, "I'm hungry."

Law found the little thing, genetically engineered no doubt, and extracted it from each and every ear- well, except Zoro's, Luffy had taken care of him. Each was crushed beneath his heel.

"I'm sure that after this, we should be able to get plenty to eat, Luffy," He said dryly as he crushed the last orange insect with a satisfying crunch and put the ears back to whom they belonged.

The first mates were groggy, the ones with actual damage holding their offended ears with a hand. Bepo was still in tears, clinging to his captain and babbling about how they were supposed to be spies and he'd agreed because it was less painful, but it really, really wasn't, and he just couldn't do it! Killer, his mask off, kept his eyes on the floor, saying nothing. A small trickle of blood ran down the curve of his earlobe, but he made no move to wipe it away. His helmet he held between his hands and waited for his captain's judgment for his betrayal.

Law comforted Bepo while Kid regarded Killer with detachment.

He was silent a few long, tense seconds, then he sighed and spat. "You thought you could double-cross 'em, din'tcha? Didn't know they were gonna use some underhanded cheap bullshit like that bug." He kicked aside the remains of one and grinned at his first mate, reaching up and wiping away the blood on his ear. "I know ya'd choose death first unless ya thought ya could turn it back on 'em. Now help me round up this aimlessly confused lot an' get 'em back to safety where Chopper can check ya all."

Killer smirked, eyes lifting through the gold fringe. "Care for a boost, Captain?" He shifted the helmet to one hand and lifted the keys from his belt. "It was worth being implanted to obtain these."

Off to the side, Beckmann had shaken down another of the now-defeated guards, and procured a wrench and a supply of bolts, which were then put to good use by Iceburg and Paulie, with a few extra hands courtesy of Robin, to put Franky back together again. Muttered arguments between the adopted brothers of 'that doesn't go there' and 'shut up I know what I'm doing, Baka-nky' punctuated a general feeling of accomplishment that the rebellion had taken the prison. After all with the warden as part of their number, any remaining guard not loyal to the Pirate King were sure to soon be captured and taken care of.

Far away from the revelry of the former prison, one of the newly promoted admirals knelt in front of the massive desk, "Sir, they've taken Impel Down."

"Let them have it. We expected them to, did we not?" The Fleet Admiral leaned back in his chair, shadows and the light from outside glinting off his glasses obscured his features. "The prison is of no consequence. Make sure it's ready for when they arrive."

The admiral nodded and seemed to disappear in a flash of movement from the room.

"Rejoice now, Monkey D. Luffy. You have won a battle, but you will not win this war. Of that I am entirely certain."

A small puff of smoke accompanied maniacal laughter that ended in him coughing for a moment. He pounded his fist against his chest, revealing the glove he wore to be black against the white of his shirt sleeve. He cleared his throat and grunted, as if trying to regain his dignity.

"Vile stuff."


	11. Chapter 11

Doflamingo wanted to crawl in beside his mate, cuddle down, and stay there for a year. But the moment he entered the shared alcove, he knew something was wrong. There was a scent that didn't belong here. A scent he wasn't familiar with.

He dropped into a crouch, a long hiss leaving him as he swept the room with strings and drew in the intruding scent on determining the intruder was gone. He took in the taste, the smell, the little nuances, then bounced to his feet and shook Crocodile. He didn't really want to wake her, but he had to make sure she was alright.

She blinked at him sleepily, mostly opening one eye with a disgruntled sort of noise. Her eyebrows drew together and she growled, pushing herself into a more upright position. "Back already? Thought you all would take longer."

"Got pissed," he explained shortly, frowning at her. "Who was here?"

He wasn't wearing his feathers, but if he had been, they'd be bristled. Still covered in blood (he had not been gentle with the guards and less so with the spying 'mushi), he was definitely still very much on edge.

Taking in the situation, Croc pulled the blanket over her a little closer and scooted back on the bed, the air in the room drying significantly in warning. "The Hellhound. Why? What's wrong?"

He turned his head, left, right, back again, and prowled, still crouched on all fours, along the floor, lips first pursing as he took in the smells in the air again, then opened his mouth to taste them as well.

"...don't know. Doesn't taste right. Can't pinpoint it." He rocked back on his heels a bit, frowning. "...could be nothing." There was just something prickling at him- he didn't know what, but whatever it was, the numbness had no effect on it and it goaded at him.

Maybe the fact that he'd left Croc unguarded for any length of time. Paranoia taking the place of the guilt he knew he felt but couldn't seem to experience the way he knew he should.

Turning off his strings, he tasted it again. "Oh! He must have—yes, that would do it."

"Do what?" The sand user growled, more agitated by the confusion than by anything Don was or wasn't actually doing. "Ever since you got back, you've made little to no sense."

"He must have turned off the 'acid-paw' thing he does that leaves the smell of ozone, that's why it smells so strange," he replied, slowly rising, relaxing again. "He's never done that for as long as I've known him, that's why it alarmed me I guess."

"Perhaps he thought it best if no one was able to detect him having been here? If you were looking for the most..." She coughed, uncomfortable and embarrassed, "the most vulnerable member of the army, wouldn't you go for the expectant first?"

"You're not vulnerable, or at least, not the MOST vulnerable. But you WERE asleep, and I should have set someone to be here just in case they tried sneak-attack retaliation before you woke up. I'm... glad he thought of it."

"Even asleep I am more deadly than many of the others in our army. Regardless he was a welcome presence. Now will you tell me why you're on edge? If you are back I assume you have recovered the swordsman." She huffed, a little too quick to declare how strong she still was, and leaned against the wall, folding her legs up under her.

"We... did, but..." He shuddered, remembering those horrid bugs. "The- the Marines... tampered... with our first mates. Or… Those of us who had those. The ones without Devil Fruits. The skeleton, too. I don't think he'll ever really recover."

He paced back and forth in the little space.

"I suspected they might when several of the crews turned up missing people even after all of the others had been recovered." She pulled a small box of blunt, paper-wrapped straws and tucked one into the corner of her mouth to chew on. "I'm also not surprised that they resorted to torture. The guards were not particularly kind souls, if you remember."

She gestured with the pseudo-cigar almost immediately and supported her right arm with her left under her chest. She had her 'thinking' face on, and she watched imaginary swirls of smoke, made slightly more real with a touch of power.

"There is more to this, I think, than what we have seen already, and far more to what you've said than what you are willing to admit. But no matter, I will discover what the secrets are in time. I always do."

He paused.

Started to grin.

"I forgot!"

He turned to Crocodile and kissed her, ignoring the straw just like he did when there was a real cigar there. "Names, my dear. I owe a few guards, who are now utterly unprotected by their warden, a little _visit_."

"I didn't exactly chitchat with them." She seemed a little put off by the sudden kiss. "One was sort of dirty. Brownish hair, thin and balding. He always came around with the same crew, so if you find him you'll probably find them all. Are you off to take care of that now?"

He looked at her over the upper rim on his glasses, eyes dilated, twinkling and excited. "Of course. All this blood I've got up has to go somewhere!"

"Somehow I don't think your lust will be sated by simply killing a few insolent brats, but by all means, have fun. Tear them to ribbons and make their families gift-wrapping paper out of their skins." She dismissed him with a hand and a strange light in her eye.

He gave a little pleased noise and kissed her again. "EXCELLENT idea, Croc! I think I'll send their dicks in the packages. Lord knows they won't be needing them," he sang before bouncing out of the room.

He still felt that curious detachment, but this was the closest he'd felt to his old self in two weeks.

As soon as the curtain fell, so did Croc's casual attitude. Something was wrong. Something with Don. Something... something broken. She couldn't put her finger on it, but for all that he looked like him, he didn't _feel_ like him. His strings vibrated her sand at the wrong frequency, and it made her nervous, brought up an uncomfortable churning feeling in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't pin down on the pregnancy. Though she rather felt like her _bambina_ was the reason for it. She made her do things, say things, act in ways she'd never have acted before; stole her mental cohesion sometimes; and kept her from tapping into that confident, almost arrogant, swagger that Crocodile had projected since the days before she left her home island for the first time. It put her off, made her uncomfortable. It was why she and the Hellhound were meeting in secret, and Don could never find out what they were planning. He'd try to stop her.

While he was gone, and it took nearly the entire rest of what would be considered their "day", she ventured out, took a bowl of stew from the communal pot, made use of the shower and toilet, spent an hour meditating in the gym and working with her sand, and finally returned to their alcove clean, refreshed, and determined to erase the last two weeks from her system as soon as her other heart came back. Especially as they had more privacy than usual because most of everyone had vacated to distant corners of the prison, claiming home territories where former enemies wouldn't have to be in each other's faces all the time.

He returned whistling. There was a steady dripping sound forming a counterpoint, but he was whistling, loudly, just like a true bird. And as Croc well knew, Doflamingo only whistled under VERY rare circumstances.

But even more importantly- for right now, he was higher than a kite on the bloodlust, on the thrill of revenge, riding the wave of satisfaction he got from taking his time and doing everything he'd envisioned and more.

When he came into the room, he was covered in blood and leaving a trail of the stuff, grinning and whistling a seven-note streak of interest and pleasure.

The brunette was once again propped on the bed, leaning against the wall. This time she had the blanket drawn up to her collar bones, though her arms and shoulders were exposed... and bare. Her hair, which brushed her shoulder blades now, was drawn up into a loose topknot, and perched on her nose were her reading glasses, something she hated to admit needing, as she took in the contents of a book she'd borrowed from Robin regarding birth and warning signs and things to do with an infant immediately afterwards. She glanced up, then did a double take, color staining her scar.

"You're filthy." Her voice was more in awe then the words suggested.

His grin was sharp and all animal teeth, "I played so hard I couldn't help but make a mess."

She very calmly set the book and glasses to the side, and moved to stand the blanket dropping lower. "Dirty, dirty, boy."

Her eyes traced him from sunglasses to toes and back up again, unconsciously pulling her lip into her mouth to bite. Something that wasn't usually there glowed in the way she _looked_ at him. Hungry. And almost predatory. In spite of her addition, she slid to the edge of the bed, and let the covers fall away. Her hand reached out, fingers dipping into the blood where it was splashed across his chest, and she purred, maintaining eye contact.

He didn't look away- he was almost compelled not to. Proudly, he spread his legs a little further apart, and put both hands on his hips as he licked his lips, tasting blood.

"Horrifyingly dirty. But you're all clean," he hummed, drawing closer.

He invited her in without so much as a second thought.

"I have the feeling, Mr. Joker, I shan't be for much longer, shall I?" She purred again, drawing her hand through the liquid, tracing the contours of his chest and stomach, painting the dips and bulges of muscle in coppery red. A playful smile teased at the corners of her mouth. "And I do so enjoy getting my hands dirty with you."

He shucked his shirt without needing to break eye contact and grinned wildly. He crossed the space between them in two steps and shoved down his pants.

"No, not very long at all, I think. Not with you painting me like that and getting me hotter."

She followed the line she was tracing down its inevitable path, staining the blond curls pink, before running her hand the length of his eighteen inches. The smile erupted, dangerous and matching her eyes for hunger, and her voice curled around her words, husky and wanting.

"Am I now? Whyever would I do a thing like that?"

His back arched involuntarily and he hissed, but he was still grinning like he would never stop. "I suspect... because... y'know how I am after a good kill and... the predator in ya... wants a share of it."

"Rawr." She growled, closing her hand around him and reaching up on her tiptoes to capture his mouth.

If she'd had her hook, she'd have gotten him around the neck, but the best she could do was slide her mangled forearm up next to his ear, the ridges of her scar brushing along a place she knew would give him shivers with every touch.

The blond's back arched further, bringing him lower- closer to her- as he kissed her back with a feverish intensity, a high-tide need he couldn't moderate or resist, not when she was meeting him touch for touch and not when she abused that spot behind his ear that drove him nuts! Though he really would have preferred her hook… he'd look into getting it back later—

"Mmnnnnnhhh."

He moaned, hands finding her hips and pulling her in as his pants slithered down to his ankles and he kicked them aside for now. He didn't need them and they would only get between him and what he really wanted right this second.

He was mightily tempted to heft her up; it would make his lying down on the bed easier and he wouldn't have to stop kissing her. If she'd been male, he would have, but as a girl Croc was slightly smaller and that made picking her up not okay, which he remembered almost too late after his hands slid to the curve of her rear and firmed up flush against the muscle. He groped her lightly instead, concentrated on the mouth working his own open and also remembering to breathe.

Pulling back to pant, his hips rolled and ground against her, and he smiled. "So will you take me right where I stand, like last time, or do you think we could make it to the floor this round?"

"I have plans, Donny... Mmm... You just stand there." She bit at his jaw, then his neck, then his collar bone, and down, following the trail of blood like it would nourish her. "For now."

She sucked a hickey over his heart. Then licked a broad stripe to his nipple, bit around it gently, and kept going down. She traced the indentations of his ribs, and the rolling hills of his stomach, until she was down on one knee and grooming his happy trail like a cat, sucking the blood she'd spread there out of the sunshine fur around the base of his shaft. Something she'd never done before. Granted she'd never done any of this when she was female before, but that didn't seem to be stopping her. She let her other leg fall to the ground and it put her at just the right angle to nuzzle up under him lapping and sucking at the tender flesh of both parts of him, hand and stump braced on his thighs.

He hissed out a series of gradually darker-sounding curses in his native tongue, twitching harder the lower she went, and by the time she was kneeling he was unconsciously spreading his feet wider apart for her, and his hands had formed fists on either side of his hips as he tried to stay in place as told.

Between the sudden lack of air he was feeling and the pleasure she was sending screaming through him, he couldn't do much more except stay in place and breathe and maybe attempt to think whenever she paused.

Extremely pleased with his reaction she stopped, resting her cheek against his leg and running her hand down through the fur there too. "Breathe, baby. Don't want you passing out before the good stuff."

The breath he sucked in exploded in more of that native language and while there was no way to be sure of what he was saying, despite the harsh tang to the tongue it seemed very fervent and was probably every love confession he'd ever thought about telling her.

It was damn good he wasn't speaking a language she did know. The jumbled mess would just confuse the hell out of her. But one coherent thought did slip out-

_"Good stuff?!"_

She smiled, the kind that held secrets even Robin couldn't decipher, and leaned in to paint the underside of his cock with her tongue, using her hand to angle it down so it wouldn't jump out of her range, all the way to the tip.

There she kissed it, "Good stuff."

He cursed in three DIFFERENT languages this time and his dick bucked in her grip with the force it had tried to jerk and twitch with the sudden rush of blood and he had to lock his knees to prevent them buckling.

She kissed it again, smirking, and let him go to maneuver herself up onto the bed again. It wasn't that easy, with only one hand and a good fourteen extra pounds mostly centered on her belly, but she managed it, internally hoping that she hadn't wasted too much time being ungainly and awkward for him to have lost his high from her actually putting her mouth on his dick. She didn't dare actually suck on it, he was entirely _too_ sensitive for that, especially from her, but a couple of kisses and the knowledge that she'd had her mouth there she figured would be enough to jack his high up higher. Once situated, leaning back and legs spread wide, she beckoned to him, curling one finger and need in her eyes.

He would have helped her, except she hadn't told him he could move again, so he just watched her, anticipating and shifting his weight from foot to foot, until she said he could come to her. His high wasn't just higher than it had already been; it had shut down 99% of higher functions. But that finger gesture and he was there, slipping his wide hips between her knees so he could lean over and take her mouth again and try not to grind against her leg like an animal in heat.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: If breastfeeding or lactation squick you, skip this chapter. Don is a kinky fucker who will literally try anything if it makes his lover happy. ((And FYI, it really does feel like heaven at this point in pregnancy for some people. >////>))
> 
> Carry on~!

Whether he curled down into her or she arched up to him wasn't clear, but as soon as he was there her folds were placing sticky wet kisses on the underside of his erection. She met him kiss for kiss, hand and arm running down his sides and back, and she was breathless, pressing herself as close to him as she could get.

She moaned, "Want... you..."

He moaned back, nuzzling down her neck, leaving nibbling kisses and licking the heated skin. "Can't stan'it, can't wait, where's…?"

He had no idea where the damn thing was, not right now, but he did know there was a strap-on in her size fucking SOMEWHERE 'round here even if it was in his coat.

"No. No." She pulled at him, her nails digging into him, panting and unable to stop the sounds of pleasure that broke her words. "Want. You. Innngh... Don... Please?"

That did arrest him, leaving him blinking owlishly at her: it was clear the thought had never occurred. She'd told him way back when that he was in no way to do any topping while she was, well, a she, and he'd abided by that. But he didn't pull away, just tilted his head in confusion, grinding again and kissing her jaw.

"You want..?"

She nodded, arching up to him again, and further, she took one of his hands and actually placed it on her breast, at which point she _moaned_ in his ear, loud and long and one of the most relieved sounds he'd ever heard her make.

He proceeded with caution- he wasn't used to this. At all. But he was perfectly willing, sliding a little closer and getting to his knees on the bed with her, hands skimming gently up until he had both breasts in his hands, and he lightly massaged them, rubbing his fingers over the soft skin with the softest touch he could.

Meanwhile, his knees levered her entire pelvis up so her butt rested in his lap.

She was a wreck and he hadn't even done fully as she'd asked, head thrown back and hand buried in his hair with a deathgrip. Her mouth hung open and every breath ended in a squeak, a tiny little "ah". Between his fingers some of her oversensitivity made sense, as a sticky liquid leaked from her nipples, but the release seemed to be triggered to her muff too, the dark strands soaked and plush against him, just begging him to be filled.

Don, well, Don had always been a curious man, especially concerning what pleased his lovers, and this... this was new. And to be honest, kind of exciting. Okay not kind of, very, VERY, because Crocodile was letting him do new things, new liberties with her permission. And Don, well…

Don loved to _taste_.

He bent his head to first one nipple, then the other, tongue dragging slowly over her flesh in the space between his fingers, tasting the liquid, the milk, even as he rubbed the thick rod of his shaft between her lower lips to push against her clit.

The second his lips closed around her nipple, she tensed, giving a high-pitched "AHNGH!" and a rush of fluid from both places told him she'd climaxed. She didn't let up though, grinding harder against him and her nails digging into his scalp. Her chest heaved, and after a moment or two, she looked down at him, somehow wild and possessed, "M-more!"

His glasses gone (he'd find them later beneath the bed, the cracked lens now almost fully shattered), he looked up at her with his usual grin and gave her a long, slow suck. He'd heard something once about pressure in the breasts during pregnancy making them sensitive and sore, and this was his excuse as he drank from her a full mouthful before switching nipples and performing the same over there, while one hand dived down to slip along the slickly lubricated edges of her sex and flick at her hot button.

"OH~!" She seemed stuck in a loop of pleasure, too much and not enough all at the same time.

Her body sang, nerves on fire, the release of pressure in her chest almost as peak-worthy and the flick of his thumb against her clit. Her muscles clenched and gripped at nothing, instinct telling her there should be something, and she was crying from the relief of it all. She pulled at him, slicked with sweat as well as the rest, and the cohesion seemed to just make things worse... or maybe better? Either way she wasn't letting him up.

Considering how much she liked it, he decided with the baby not due for another little while, it couldn't possibly hurt to have a bit... or maybe a lot... more. He'd forgotten about his cock, actually, in his enjoyment of making her writhe in ecstasy, and he continued to drink at her breasts, switching every few mouthfuls, as his thumb rubbed firmly back and forth over her clit and he purred at the nails in his scalp and the sheer power of her arms as she held him down.

If she'd been able to form a coherent thought, she might have come to the realization that this mindlessness was what pushed others to seek sex so much, like a drug, all-consuming and addictive, but as it was, she couldn't, all she could do was enjoy the ride. At least, until someone else made her presence known. Croc gasped, letting Don go almost instantaneously, and she pushed on him to get off, teeth bared and curling under him around her belly as best she could.

"Of course now, ngh, stoppit." She growled, hand on her side.

Don blinked, sure he'd done something wrong, but it took only a minute or two to realize what the matter was. And as he sat back on his heels, he started to laugh.

"Shhh, baby, shhh," he said softly, his hands coming to smooth over the drum-tight skin as he slid off the bed to kneel and kiss her stomach. "Now you settle down, little girl. Your papa is doing papa things, which you have no business getting into- or even thinking about- until you're twenty five. You're not allowed to get involved before you're even born," he chuckled softly, trying to soothe the little one before she kicked her papa's insides into bruising.

Croc gave her lover an incredulous look, softened by the way her hair was mussed and the glow of endorphins on her skin. "I don't think she's gonna listen to words yet. She doesn't understand them. You're... ngh... warmer than I am though. Could try touching her."

She rolled back, exposing the place where the little one was abusing her insides. The skin rippled, though the shape of limb couldn't be seen yet. It was more than just on her side, the spot was on her left, down near her hip, where she couldn't reach with her single hand, even if she didn't have the swell of baby between her and her target.

He put both of his hands there, chuckling and rubbing gently. "No, but I read somewhere that babies will recognize the voices that talk to them while they're developing. She can't understand but maybe my tone of voice will calm her. We can hope, can't we, baby?"

He kissed the spot, humming gently.

"Heh. Seems to be working." The sand user visibly relaxed as the little one calmed, settling to only bumping against Don's palm.

Once she'd calmed to the point that Croc couldn't feel her much anymore, other than little flutters, the expectant parent gave her lover a purring smile, sliding her hand up his cheek to pull him in for a gentle kiss. She hummed, her hunger for him growing slowly, as she tasted him. Parting before she could lose her breath, she licked her lips and curled her fingers in his hair again.

"She likes you, Papa."

For reasons he didn't want to think about too much, somehow that new nickname sent shudders bolting down his spine and made his half-hard length once more bolt up to full throttle.

"MMmm, probably a good thing, as I'll be rocking her to sleep at least as often as you do. I demand my half of 'doting parent' role," he purred back, eyes half-lidded as he pressed closer to her again.

"You better," she wrapped her arms around his neck, re-settling him back between her legs. "Otherwise I won't get anything done, and we'll have to—"

She covered the break in her words with a roll of her hips, because the internal alarm that warned her when she was about to make a wrong move went off, telling her not to finish that sentence the way she'd planned.

So she capped it with a soft moan, and finished, instead, with, "we'll have no time for ourselves."

He chuckled. "Ah, yes, and that would be a true shame," he purred.

His mind put 'get a babysitter' on the end of the first aborted one and dismissed it from mind, instead once more bending to her breasts to take her nipples in his teeth and suck, slow and powerful. He'd figured out there were two lines of fire from nipples to core, and sucking on them sent pleasure rippling down them. Meanwhile, his dick once more pressed between her lower lips, the thick underside of the shaft itself slipping past easily to rub tantalizingly against her.

"Oh..." She moaned again, more throaty and real this time, and canted her hips to kiss the tip of his dick with her tunnel. "Oh, Donny... don't... ngh... don't tease... mmmm~!"

He hitched his hips, already adjusting the angle. "Mmm... well if that's what you want..."

There was an implicit request for confirmation there. He was asking permission, but also trying not to break the mood. After all, the first time could have been a high hallucination (which was wearing off, or was mostly worn off already. Having a baby kick one’s lover violently could put a damper on wild moods rather quickly).

"Please???" She whined, actually drawing him in a tiny bit, her knees folded up on his sides and her toes tucked around his thighs, trying to encourage without breaking the steady building fire that was more subtle, but even sweeter than their frantic crash together before.

He reached down with one hand to guide himself to the proper angle, because his blood was high and it wanted to stick too far upwards, and gently slid in the first inch or so, watching her face, his free hand stroking the side of one breast.

Her eyes drifted shut and her body opened for him like she was made for him. Her hand gripped his hair, and her forearm pulled him close with that same hidden strength that had kept him teasing her before.

Far different from the heady moans so far, her breath escaped her in one long, soft, "Ohhhhhhh~!"

He was reluctant to come in too far, though, no matter how welcoming her body seemed. He was nervous, afraid he'd hit her limits or worse, the baby. As he kissed his way up her jaw, he eased in the next several inches, until he was just about halfway inside, and there he stopped. She surely couldn't take more than that! But it felt—

_So good!_

Even above the implications of her trusting him enough for this, the sheer _sensation_ was enough to drive him out of his mind.

Croc arched her back, taking several more inches just by the angle she was rolling her hips, and she pulled him down, taking his mouth with a toe-curling kiss, sound vibrating from her center and into him. She wanted it _all_ ~! And wasn't going to be content until she got it.

He yelped, a sharp shree of surprise, and then he was being kissed stupid but even then he resisted, the last five inches or so holding back as he whined in concern.

She answered him with a hungry moan, rolling her hips again, her internal muscles gripping him like a velvet sheath, hot and soft, with just the right amount of slick.

Oh! Dear! _Gods!_

His spine turned to water and he slammed in all the way to the hilt as his ability to hold back was stolen right out from under him and he trilled into her mouth, dick jumping at the pleasure.

Her mouth popped off of his in a great gasp and she clung to him tightly, her insides milking him without her even having to move. "Ohhh, Donnnnn~!"

He panted into her neck, shaking too hard with pleasure to move. "Fuck," he managed, tongue feeling thick.

The sand user, so accustomed to dry, arid, heat, was left breathless, soaked in more ways than she could coherently count just then. All she could do was grip him, holding him like an anchor in a storm, and whine, soft and low. The coil of pleasure in her belly wound tighter with each minute movement he made, the trembling and twitches hitting all of her over-sensitized nerves, and she let the surprise fall from her features to close her eyes, the darkness swallowed by bright, pleasure-punctuated, light. As she gave over to it, instinct had her rolling her spine by tiny increments, beginning to set up a rhythm of grinding her hot button and her g-spot against him in a slow, almost timid, pace.

He began to move with her, soft twitches, little movements. Not thrusts, because there was no force in them, but his own eyes were shut and he was struggling to breathe, and his stomach was boiling with need like it hadn't in years, but he couldn't bear to move too fast because if he did he was going to unravel.

Then he got it into his head that he probably wasn't doing enough to please his lover, turned his head, and mouthed his way back to a leaking nipple.

The added spike of sensation had her digging her nails into his scalp again, her pace picking up unconsciously because of the way the coil wrapped tighter. Her mind was blown, her entire focus was on where she was full (so full!) and empty (finally!) and the counterpoints it made across her body.

His scalp finally split- it had taken too much abuse from her nails- and the blood trail wound slowly down his forehead, coloring his hair and scenting the air between them as he switched to the other breast and drained the last of that one as well between soft rolls of his hips.

If anything the scent of blood spurred her on, again driving him faster, regaining the edge of frenzy that had hit her when he came through that curtain covered in the lifefluid. Oh she'd worry about it later, that she had caused him to bleed, but for now... all it did was fan her fire.

As she became wilder, so did he, the smell of blood whipping his abandoned high back to its peak, and he went from the softest movements to harsh, quick thrusting with a shift of his knees, baring both his teeth and his throat as he hissed and arched.

She took the invitation, biting him and sucking a dark bruise onto his skin, matching him, challenging him, pushing them toward the inevitable with growling moans and needy mouthing.

He thrust harder, growling back even as his head stayed tipped to let her keep biting, some sort of bizarre challenged submission that matched up and evened out as he clutched to her sides and he felt his orgasm start barreling down on him with the force of a freight train.

She held on, her own just... ohsoclose! Don'tstop! Keep... doing... ah! Tha—ah—t!! She clenched around him, cumming harder than she ever had as either gender and with a "kee. kee. kee. keeEEE." type sound, her forehead buried in his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut, and teeth bare.

He didn't trill for a change- he ROARED as his orgasm swept over him and he pressed as deep as he could get, holding onto her and rocking while it pulse through him with his heartbeat for seconds that felt like hours.

Then he collapsed, listing sideways, and lay panting and exhausted, every bone turned to water and air.

"...Mother FUCKER."

Uncaring of the mess, Croc _purred_ , curling up to his side with a huge yawn. Her afterglow made her hazy and dreamy, and she nuzzled into the scent of him, drifting off quickly with a simple murmured, "Luvoo."


	13. Chapter 13

As per usual these days, within a few hours Croc was awake again, a little stiff, aching in places that didn't normally hurt, but she couldn't find it in her to be unhappy about it. She groaned and stretched, pressing belly and breasts against her lover's side. Then a mischievous smile lit up her eyes, and she rolled such that she could tease him, nipping and kissing all over his broad shoulder. There was something about being smaller and partially vulnerable that brought out this _possessive_ side to her flamingo, and the more it happened, the more she started to think that maybe she liked it. She growled playfully and danced her fingers over lovebites that had yet to fade, bound and determined to wake him.

Sure enough, soon he began to shift and stir, making little noises deep in his throat as he came awake in his favorite way possible: to the nipping of his beloved. It didn't take him long to start returning them, his tongue dragging up the side of her neck, his teeth worrying lightly at the lobe of her ear as his eyes slit open and he snuggled a little closer to her.

"Hi." Her voice was rough, overused the way his usually was after a session like that.

She spread her nails across his chest and purred.

"Hi," he returned, his own just as rough and dropped almost an octave and a half. "I think you de-boned me."

She snickered. "Very probably. Hungry?"

He grinned. "Oh always."

"I'll find something then." She pushed herself up so she could kiss him breathless, then slipped off the bed.

On her way out of the alcove she dressed in her own pants, but his shirt, the front held together with buttons he never used. She gave him a strange smile over her shoulder just before letting the curtain fall behind her. It was warm, and soft, but odd. Something about it that she'd never given him before, like a new tenor to the way she did it. And on top of that, she'd left without even combing her fingers through her hair or putting on shoes! Just the socks she'd had on before and the shirt and pants.

Crocodile was a lot of things. Smart, cunning, ruthless, manipulative, dedicated, hard to please, fierce, loyal as long as it suited her, and noble, in spite of a not-so-noble birth. But the one thing she'd always been was immaculate. Put together with precision and designed specifically to impress, even if the only people she was impressing were peasants and ruffians. She was, if nothing else, the epitome of success and composure ninety-nine percent of the time. So... why?

It made Don confused, once he realized what had just happened.

Being fuzzy and affectionate after sex as amazing as that was one thing. But neglecting all her usual grooming habits? Going out in public in _his_ shirt? Forgetting shoes of all things on the cold stone floors??

It smacked of contrivance.

He turned on his stomach, resting his chin on his arm, as his brows furrowed inward. It smacked of an act, but if it was, what was the aim? What on earth would be the point? She knew he was already hers, for good. There was no need to ply him with charm and wiles.

It could, be supposed, be the female hormones making her act strangely, but he doubted it. Pregnancy hormones supposedly promoted irritability, not affection.

She was taking a long time coming back. Scrounging for food was one thing, but... shouldn't she have been able to just go out, get the stuff and return? Even if she'd had to go all the way to the warden's office for it, she should have been back by now. How hard was it to find it? Another few minutes of silence, waiting for her to return and it was like every tick of the clock was driven into his skin, senses heightened just in case something went wrong.

Then she laughed, a cheery sound that filtered through the curtain like bells in a choir.

His spine stiffened like it had just had an iron spike driven up its length because just then it hit him: the food was an excuse. So she could go see _him_.

His stomach flipped and jealousy and anger surged through him, every bit as hot and terrible as the rage that he'd exercised on the corrupt guards before, but he quickly felt the numbness creeping back, seeping into him and leaving him, as before, empty.

No longer feeling much of anything, and certainly not hungry, he crawled out of the blankets and onto the floor, where he gathered his clothes and spread them over the main spot, floor and wall, beneath the bed where he'd been spending the last couple weeks. That done, he slithered his way between, around and under the pipes, then twitching the hanging blanket down once again so he was utterly hidden from the world, enclosed and alone and safe.

The hurt couldn't find him here.

"Thank you, Mr. Prince-san." The tone was actually genuine when she did finally come back, pushing the curtain before looking. "Donny, I had to wait for it to finish cook—"

She looked around, the bowl in her hand held tightly as she took in his disappearance. Tears kept her from taking in the exact details of the scene, and she shook her head. Not again. Not after that. Not now. She'd only just managed to... He was supposed to be... That wasn't fair! She'd given him everything to prove it to him. She felt her knees buckling and she choked, hand fumbling with the dish. She backed away, fighting between the urge to cry and the driving betrayal fueling her sands. Just like everyone else... He'd never been any different. And she'd been a fool. Taken in hook, line and sinker. Slowly retreating from what she'd come to think of as their alcove (rather than hers), the bowl tipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor in a splash of thick, hearty stew and the sound of a broken heart.

BANG!

_"HERMANOS DE PUTAS!"_

The sound of shattering ceramic had scared the shit out of him, as he'd been lightly dozing, and he had, of course, bolted straight up- and hit his head on the bottom of the bed.

This time he pulled himself out from between them disoriented and unable to turn his strings on at all, so he could only stagger in the general direction of the door, feeling with one hand for the curtain, the other holding his head, which was spinning so hard he couldn't even feel it was sticky with blood.

"Alex?!"

"You've really done it this time, idiot." The voice from the shadow next to the curtain was flat, though too deep to be female. "When will you learn running away hurts them more?"

A soft blue light covered him and skilled hands cut away the congealing fluids to ensure the wound was clean, then stitched it with dissolving thread, and he never even needed to remove any of the blond man's hair. The light dissipated quickly, removing what little could be seen of the surgeon, and the young man's tone changed from bland to vaguely irritated and disappointed.

"Put your clothes on, fish your balls out of your mouth and go talk to him. Before he decides that he really does prefer Cook-ya's company to yours." The rounded end of his nodachi's kashira whacked the opposite side of the puppetmaster's head, not hard enough to actually hurt, but hopefully hard enough to wake him up.

"Ow! Fine, fuck, alright!" He staggered back in, even more disoriented now ("thanks so much brat") but managed to fish out his clothes and put them back on, then managing to get his strings under control well enough to spread them out to 'see' as he emerged a second time. "Do y'know where he went?"

"If you can't figure that out, you have even less perception than Swordsman-ya." Law shouldered his nodachi and gave a small sigh. "Expect a stormy greeting. Stress is bad for a developing fetus."

Don sighed.

"I like to rely on something more than my fuzzy mind, but yeah, I know where he is," he growled under his breath as he made for the kitchen. Whatever reception he got, there was a sick feeling in the bottom of his stomach that meant he would take his lumps because he needed to fix this immediately.

She was here, wrapped in not only his shirt, but a blanket fetched from someone's bunk, probably Sanji's own, and her hand was wrapped around a mug of what looked like tea. "I'm s-sorry I dropped it. I... I just... I couldn't..."

She was obviously holding herself back, fighting her body, and the chef took pity on her. A single bowl, while ultimately important in the fact that it had been full, was very little in the grand scheme of things. "It's alright, Aly-chan. It wasn't deliberate, and that's the important part. I can make more if it becomes a problem."

Don's feet stopped at the edge to the kitchen and his stomach flipped. She was in there with him, and there was a little boy in him who knew the Rules and cowered at the thought of breaking the first and foremost. It took him a moment or two of deep breathing to force himself past it and actually take that step into the cook's domain. It immediately set him on edge.

He tried to regulate his breathing, because if he started hyperventilating it would help nobody and nothing. "Croc? I heard something break, did you get hurt?"

Her head whipped up and for a heartbeat there was a mix of joy/relief/shock on her face, but with the next it was gone, darkened into fury/hurt with the weight of a raging sandstorm. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw set as she pulled the blanket closer around herself.

Her voice was hard, cold, detached the way it had been for years when Don had first started wooing her. "I'm fine."

He flinched. "You don't sound fine. And you don't normally drop things."

Oh this was going to hurt. He knew it would, and all the numbness in the world couldn't stop this one.

"I've done a lot of things I don't normally do lately."

"Oi. If all you're gonna do is—"

"Mr. Prince-san."

Sanji subsided, but his glare was far more obvious as he pulled a bundle of washed carrots from a strainer and spun a large santoku on his palm. The first chop of the blade through the root vegetables was far more of a message than anything else said out loud so far. Croc looked at the cook, only her eyes, and he stopped, focusing his entire concentration on slicing the carrots for steaming.

"Do you have a point that you're trying to make, Donquixote?" Her voice was cool, composed, and still very, very distant.

That did it. That tore it, that _right there_. The reversion to his full surname. Nothing could have made her, and his, and _his_ , respective positions any clearer and he wilted like a ten-day-old lily in the face of what he knew and what he'd been afraid of and his throat closed up so tight he couldn't speak. And the little boy who'd told him not to break the rules, not to intrude on Crocodile's time with the one she loved best, made the terror and the cold that came with it overwhelm him.

"Not anymore." It was less than a whisper of breath, and he turned and fled.

This time he would not be found so close as beneath the bed.

This time he would be a good boy and stay out of her way, out of her sight, give her all the time with the father of her child that she wanted and never interrupt her again.

This time he would not dare return until called.

Sanji's knife stopped on the board. "Call after him."

Croc was shaking. The mug of tea long forgotten, but carefully set to the side to avoid wasting it. She mutely shook her head.

The cook rounded the makeshift island and forced her to look up at him, an intrusion of personal space that neither she would allow with anyone else, nor he would attempt with any other female. "Do it or you'll be regretting it for the rest of your life, and you know it."

Her eyes, sandy-gold and wide with fear, bored into his oceanic blues, and her chin trembled. Then she pulled away from him and practically ran to the edge of the kitchen, standing just outside the doorframe and she shouted at the top of her lungs.

"YOU COWARDLY LOUSE, GET BACK HERE AND FACE ME LIKE A MAN, DOFLAMINGO!"


	14. Chapter 14

If it had been anyone else, if it had been _any person_ other than Crocodile, nothing would have induced him to obey. But- but it was Crocodile, and though his heart stopped and the bottom dropped out of his guts, he loved her too much to refuse. So even though he didn't want to, even though he knew he was only being retrieved to get the beating he deserved before he was allowed to hide and lick his wounds, he turned on his heel.

He reappeared at the end of the hall after a moment, and even though he was walking at a normal pace, his body language couldn't be hidden. Not when it was this dramatic a change. Shoulders curled in, back slumped, knees bent, head down. Eyes on the floor. And he came to a stop just outside easy hitting distance- sure, he knew he was in for a whipping, but that didn't mean he wanted to make it easy, not even for her.

"You." She trembled, stepped forward, hand clenched at her side. "Do you have any idea what you've put me through, you hypocritical ass!? How I _cried_ for you? The long nights, locked in this hell, no hope for escape, and _begging_ for the one thing that has always kept me from getting too wrapped up in my head?! But the second you find out I did something _you do_ on a near daily basis, everything changes. This," she pointed to her belly, "has nothing to do with you and me. This happened by accident. And I don't know what you have twisted all up in your pea-sized, bird-focus, numb-skulled brain of yours, but there is _nothing_ going on between the Strawhat cook and myself. He cares for the _bambina_ because she's his offspring, and frankly even Ivankov is surprised as fuck that she even exists! She wasn't supposed to be possible! WHOEVER HEARD OF A TRANSMAN GETTING A WOMAN PREGNANT NATURALLY!?"

She was growling and screaming on an already abused throat, and between the way her nose wrinkled up, and her eyebrows came down, it was hard to tell that there were tears in the corners of her eyes.

"I don't know why you ran away the first time, but I do understand both of these last two times. _You don't trust me."_ She hiccuped, and had to force herself through it, "You... you don't... I gave you _everything_... _EVERYTHING_ I have, I am... and you... you _ran away_. Like some pathetic, jealous, hypocritical, bitchboy. HOW DARE YOU! Sniveling and crawling at me like you're the victim here! Like you're the one having to be jerked around like a yo-yo on one of your strings. 'Oh play with me, puppetmaster, play me some more.' FUCK YOU!" She screamed, holding herself with her elbows at her ribs, unbalanced and clutching at his shirt like a life line where it wrapped around her body. _"IT ISN'T FAIR!!"_

Aw shit. This was worse than a good old fashioned beating. At least with those the bruises faded eventually. He wanted to hold her, soothe her, calm her, but he was very aware that would not be welcome. He felt strangely dizzy, though, so when it seemed like she was done for the moment he tried to explain, a little.

"I never ran away because of not trusting you. I didn't run away at all. I got cold waiting, so I tucked myself into the pipes again. I've always trusted you. I've never played games, not like this and not with you. And of course I left, when you gave me every signal to get out of your sight."

"Bullshit." She spat. "There were blankets. There was space. You could've followed me. It never stopped you before. Why now?" She shook her head, "No, don't answer that, because I know why now. You've got some psychotic idea that I want to have some sort of _relationship_ with Sanji. So, you're doing for me what I have always done for you, and leaving me alone. In spite of the fact that I have now told you three times, I am not involved with Sanji. Yes, we had sex. On display, in public, in front of all of those guards you just slaughtered yesterday. And the entire time... not that it seems to matter to you... he was calling out one name. Not mine. I don't understand why the directionless, traumatized swordsman gets it and you don't."

"It's not- you don't-" He'd forgotten about his breathing, and suddenly there was no air, and he was getting very hot in the face and wasn't sure why. "I know you don't lie- it's not a matter of _relationship_ it's- he's- s'not about the-"

He didn't have the air to breathe and the world spun. Why couldn't she get it? It wasn't _about_ relationships, it wasn't about the sex, it was about ranking and preference and he knew his place in the world, how did she not know the simplest rule of a hierarchy is never distract Master from his time with his Favored? One didn't have to LIKE or want a relationship with or even really CARE about someone to Favor them, it was preference and who she wanted in control of things, Sanji was HER favored how did she not understand—? The world spun sideways and he realized distantly he didn't feel himself breathing at all, so he forced himself to let out the breath he was holding but it was too cold and it burned so he had to let it out again almost immediately to try again.

Somewhere someone was calling, and the rush of feet entered his ears, and then nothing.

The next thing he knew was softness and fingers combing through his hair, a lilting melody sung by a hauntingly quiet voice, in a language he knew and yet didn't understand, [_"...You are the dawn of a new day that's waking, a masterpiece still in the making, the blue in an ocean of grey. You are right where you need to be, poised to inspire and to succeed. Soon you'll finally find your own way..."_](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=70VlAyEUXYM)

His eyelashes fluttered and he shifted a little, confused and aching. His head was killing him.  What the hell had happened...?

His pillow started, the song stopping, and the hand going still on his head, almost tentative. Her voice shook, "I'm still mad at you. Are you okay?"

He tried to take a breath to answer. Wound up hacking violently until he thought he was going to lose a chunk of lung.

Tried again, much slower. "Think so. Kinda. Broke ribs?"

"Two. During the fall. You panicked. Again." She put gentle pressure on his sternum to help ease the cough. "Two days of rest and a tonic Chopper made mixed with something Sanji brought from Ivankov's cookbook and you are almost healed. Don't go trying to get up or I'll knock you out again, something I'm rather fond of doing right now."

"Ok."

He wanted to say more, wanted to explain, even say something witty to cheer her, but he didn't have the breath. Instead he groped blindly for Crocodile's hand, eyes closed, and tried to relax a bit more.

"Hurts," he managed to mumble.

"Bouncing on solid stone like a ball does that, numbskull."

Her grip on his hand spoke higher of her true feelings than her voice did, but she'd always been like that, actions more than words. Words were a cover, a shell to hide behind when things got rough.

"I bounced? Must be... thick skulled... as you… always said," he replied, getting in that witty comment to try and reassure her, giving her a weak squeeze back.

"Of course you are. Grey matter the size of a parakeet's. The rest of that massive head of yours is bone. That's the only reason why it hasn't fractured with as many times as you've abused it. Especially..." She hiccuped, and he could feel her shaking her head, fighting things. "Especially when you'd think... think I wouldn't... you idiot. Don't you know what you mean to me?"

Warm water dropped onto his face, and her breathing grew ragged.

He reached up and gently caressed her face with his free hand. "Mmm. What do I... think you wouldn't... I don't remember... anything clearly... right before passing out..."

"Sun—I mean, Robin, explained it to me. Sanji isn't above you. I go to him because you aren't there and you know how I get caught up in my head." Her head was bowed over him, her eyes over-bright, and withheld anguish in the lines of her face. "Why didn't you say something? I'm not your master, Donny. I'm your... I thought I was... we were... aren't we... isn't this something long-term? Aren't I your... your home?"

"Of course you are," he breathed, managing a lopsided smile. "My home an' haven. It’s why I try so hard to make... you happy. Didn't say nothin'... cuz it’s my job... to know it... I love you best... wanna keep ya... so..." He shrugged.

"Then don't put me up there." She shook her head again. "I need you. I can't do this on my own. But you keep... I came back and you were gone... again... I can't keep doing that. I'm not... I'm not the man I used to be..." Her voice grew very, very quiet and she looked away, using her hair, loose and actually falling into her face for once, to hide her expression. "I don't... know myself right now. As soon as I think I have control of it, something happens and I'm blindsided."

He nuzzled into her thigh, what he could reach like this. "Ok. No hiding... no pedestals."

With his agreement, something hummed. A sub-sonic, more vibration than sound, from somewhere at her core, like the shudder of the tectonic plates shifting somewhere far, far away. The barely perceptive ripple expanded, every grain of her sand shifting at the same frequency, one that seemed almost incomplete but for the duplicity she knew wasn't coming from her.

There was a pulsing sensation coming from somewhere above him, something rippling his strings and plucking at his core as he felt himself thump in response, frowning and looking up, a hand pressing to his chest where he was suddenly warm and feeling very odd.

"Croc, what's...?"

"True resonance." She whispered, barely daring to speak for the wonder of it. She spread her hand across his solar plexus, "Fate." Then touched her own, "Time."

There was a legend, something said to be a part of the True History, which spoke of Devil Fruits being the incarnation of certain aspects of reality. An emotion, an element, a concept of consciousness, or a symbol of an idea. Each one was said to be the embodiment of that aspect, and the reason that some were stronger than others or canceled each other out, was because those fruits were bound together in some way, either through cause and effect, as with smoke and fire, or through a connection where one could not exist without the other. This was called, on the Poneglyphs, 'True Resonance' and once realized, rumor said that the pair could combine their powers to affect the very fabric of reality itself.

Well... that FELT about right.

But...

"Well why the hell did it take so long? We could've taken out the Tenryuubito a decade ago if—" he wound up on his side, hacking like he had consumption again for a minute.

Touching on the vibration she now recognized as part of her soul, Crocodile soothed the spasm in his chest through his own strings. "It's always been there. It's how I always knew it was you before you entered the window, and how you could get a string to stick to me even from the other side of the planet. Didn't you ever wonder why Law was able to throw you off, but I never could? I fought a lot harder than he did trying to get away from you in the beginning."

He smiled a bit wryly. "And I tried to hold on to you a lot harder," he added. "Fledglings need to fly. But an adult you gotta work to catch."

She softened, blinking away her earlier tension, "You've caught me, Donny. I promise. You've caught me." She dusted her fingertips across his brow, drying the sweat from his temples. "Now sleep. We've a world to liberate when you wake."


	15. Chapter 15

The office was darkened, the curtains drawn on the windows that overlooked the infamous port, and most of the lights dimmed to create an air of mystery around the man seated in the center. To the side one of his guards shifted uncomfortably, much to the disapproval of the other. The two exchanged looks a couple of times before the man in the center snapped his fingers, making them both freeze in place with terror.

"Something the matter, Vice-admiral?" He asked, without looking up from the paper he was reading.

"No, sir, there's nothing he—"

"Let the man speak for himself." The chair spun and the intimidating male slid his glasses up to his forehead to stare the two of them down without hindrances.

The lower ranked Marine shifted under the steady evaluation, knowing that he could have his mind read without even so much as a warning wave of Haki. It made a man nervous to know his superior could see his thoughts like that, but at the same time, it was a bit relieving because chances were the Fleet Admiral already knew what he was going to say anyway, and was asking because he was being polite about it.

So he cleared his throat. "I was just wondering, sir. If the Strawhats have the prison, sir, how come they haven't left yet? They must know we aren't gonna go after a bunch of mangy fruit users just because they happened to have found Vegapunk's bugs, right? So, how come they haven't made their move yet? It's been two weeks since they took it. What are they waiting for?"

The Fleet Admiral's mouth curled into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "What, indeed, Vice-admiral. What, indeed."

Truth be told, Luffy had wanted to leave right away, seek retribution from the higher ups for what had been done to Brook, to Zoro, to his entire Nakama, but Chopper and Law were able to speak sense into him. Or at least they were able to distract him well enough to give the injured two weeks to recuperate. The skeleton still wasn't back up to par, his joints stiff with pseudo-arthritis, and his laugh weak. He could barely stay inside himself, let alone fight. As for Zoro, for once the swordsman wasn't lost physically. Three nights of nightmares had him forcing himself to stay awake, even after both doctors had given him things to help him sleep. So, even as antsy as they all were, the Devil Fruit users had legitimate reasons for staying tucked safely behind the fortified walls of Impel Down.

Doflamingo and anyone else relatively healthy ('relatively' because both Croc AND Law had warned him if he re-broke the setting ribs they would skin him) had spent this time training to get back up to snuff, and in Don's case... trying out new abilities.

He'd protested, weakly, at first, when Crocodile had explained his designation as Fate. Because how could HE be Fate, the one who made so many ultimate decisions on how people lived and died and who they loved? Or the devil-fruit embodiment of it, anyway. Crocodile had promptly pointed out Don was capricious, many-minded, of a short attention span, and easily induced to favor one 'fate' over another, much like the Three Fates of legends.

Don grudgingly conceded that point.

The fecund woman herself had found, over the last ten days, two things she could only attribute to her raging hormones. First, she'd gone from being only marginally interested in sexual relations to being a damn nymphomaniac, and second, somehow this newfound attraction worked in the opposite direction as well. The pirates and marines that had previously spoke ill of her behind her back or leered at her, or worse, acted like everything she'd been before this whole debacle was forfeit to her current situation, were now falling all over themselves to do things for her. If she coughed, she had ten glasses of water offered to her. If she shivered, instantly she was covered in blankets. If she yawned, every male in the area offered to carry her to bed. It was maddening. Thus, by day eleven, she'd returned to hiding away in her alcove, playing with her sands and listening to the things the world around her could tell her about itself. Often Robin joined her, not-so-surprisingly drawn to the aspect of Time, and the two of them engaged in hours-long conversations regarding the other poneglyphs and what the hana-user had discovered of the True History as it compared to what the stones and waters around the prison remembered.

Don had spent the last four days exercising his newfound ability to see Strings of Fate; a particular person's String of Fate, actually, and a particular string. Not only because exercising his newfound ability was good for him to grasp it, but because it fucking _bothered_ him. Fucker had seven strings- each person was only supposed to get ONE! He didn't know how he knew that, but he did, and that string had been bothering him and bothering him and he'd spent the last four days wrestling with it.

Today he came into the alcove and threw himself over Croc's lap (careful of her belly) in frustration.

"I need a pair of magic scissors. So I can cut that fucking thread, take out all the middle, and retie it where that mossbrained idiot can't physically be more than ten feet away from him at all times," he griped, "otherwise I just may kill him. Y'know how I was so confused over the multiples? Y'know what it fucking was? I was right, he DID only have one thread no matter how much it looked like seven, what it came down to is the mosshead gets lost so fucking much his string doubled and triple looped over itself and then knotted until it got like that. FOUR DAYS to find out he's got the worst sense of direction- I may kill him. Where is that alcohol from the party we stashed?"

Croc looked down from her book, raising an eyebrow over the rim of her reading glasses, and sighed. "Here, work on the sweater you were crocheting for the _bambina_ instead."

She reached her hand over to pull the bundle of yarn from under the table next to the bed, letting the book rest of the shelf that her midsection was in the process of becoming. It was soft, spun from wool shorn from a zoan Model: Sheep user who'd been grateful enough to donate her coat, resulting in an entire stockpile of yarn. Considering how quickly the master of strings went through it, it was a good that every time she changed forms her wool came back.

Don grumbled at being denied the booze he wanted, and continuing irritation, but nevertheless he reached for and took up the yarn and crochet hook again. Daz had carved it for him out of one of the cell bars. He'd tried with makeshift knitting needles at first, of course, it was a tighter weave and would be so much warmer, but those had been rather... stabby. It hadn't ended well.

But for now, he rested the back of his head on Crocodile's thigh and put his crocheting on his stomach to resume his work. He fully intended to have at least half the little girl's first two years of clothing needs 90 percent finished by the time she arrived. He'd make it too, as long as the Sheep-user continued to donate wool. His fingers were quick and accurate, and stitching it all together once it was complete was so easy it almost hurt. Besides, he didn't need to work long to make something baby-sized.

"How was the skeleton today?" The sand user resumed her reading, resting her mangled arm over her belly. "I'm told the plans to move forward depend on his recovery."

"He still can't stay inside his bones longer than ten minutes. Sanji said he might try putting the bones in a pot and boiling them, like while making soup, to boil the salt out of them, if he doesn't think it'll hurt him. And it would probably be more effective than the scraping they've been doing."

He frowned and back-tracked a stitch to redo it.

"Still don't know how they're going to handle the skull. Boiling it with the rest of the bones would definitely destroy what remains of his hair."

"I might actually be able to help with that." She folded her book and placed it and her glasses off to the side. "Here, let me have a bit of the yarn."

Rolling his wrist and popping it, he handed over the ball he was working from.

"Now watch." She held it out, balanced on the palm of her hand. "You know I have always been able to do this." The ball began to decay, the yarn turning brittle and mummifying. "However, very recently, I have discovered much like the repulsion of liquid which removed my weakness for being wet," she allowed herself a sarcastic smirk at the innuendo, "I can repulse age." The ball looked like it was being rewound, like a video tape, the yarn grew plump and fresh again, but she kept going, until she had a handful of wool, fresh cut from the sheep. "See?"

He grinned. "Great... now can you do it the other way, with the time? Seeing a couple of certain Marines hobbling around crippled old men would be SO satisfying... and does it work in general age or does it work on the specific timeline of the object in question- or don't you know that yet?"

"I could always age people, Donny. Suck the moisture from their bodies and what do they have left? Crumbling dust. It's the same thing. But so far de-aging something only seems to work on threads. Not just physical threads either."

She gave him a secretive smirk, reached out and laid her hand over his heart. Instantly, years of hurt and pain and distrust between them vanished, and the connection that was their red string was bright and shiny and new, with the touch of a first crush on The One.

She made a soft sound, and her voice was breathless slightly, "See?"

"Oh. _Wow_."

His voice was low and breathless, to just... have all of that gone. Those pesky lingering insecurities he'd never admit he'd had. Gone. He took a deep breath and it felt like he'd never breathed before that moment without pressure on him, and he shivered at how _good_ it felt.

"Wow, just. Mmm. Fuck me."

She snickered, "Don't tempt me."

What was the most amazing part about it was that the history of their bond wasn't gone, just the age. It had implications that Crocodile really didn't want to think about, but drew her attention some anyway. Enough that she was able to re-focus on the conversation rather than the desire to ravish her beloved.

"In any case, I believe if I can accurately pinpoint how long it was I can restore his afro to its former glory after the salt has been entirely removed."

Don paused. "Actually, you could restore his entire body, if he was willing," he said slowly. "I don't know if he would. But who knows, maybe he'd like to have a physical form again?"

Then something else occurred that made him jump and vibrate.

"Croc. Croc, you can _rewind time_. Do you realize what that means!?"

"I... I'm not that strong with it... I can't... I can't bring things back... I don't... think... I haven't tried. What if there are backlashes? I'm not going to risk it getting out of hand. Not right now." Something about that sentence vibrated through her, and made her inordinately wary. "What _exactly_ are you implying?"

"Croc. Barring suicide and death in battle..." He had to swallow as it hit him. " _You're immortal_. And you have all the time in the world to practice!"

She shook her head, nervously, in a sort of twitching type way. "No. No, that... that always ends badly. Being immortal is just asking for trouble, and if there's one thing I've learned being in contact with Mugiwara it's that reaching for the sky one has to accept that there are consequences. I don't feel like burning my hand on the sun again."

He thought about that, feeling her emotions thrumming over the strings, and decided she was right. She felt both nervous and very certain. He sighed.

"Okay, I guess. But it's a nice thought," he added wistfully.

"Only nice until you realize that I doubt I could make it extend to others. Maintaining my own life, and even yours, would mean nothing; if it means Law and the _bambina_ have to die before our eyes." She ran her hand through his hair, after restoring the ball of yarn to its appropriate age and state. "There is a saying that no parent should have to bury their child. I did not fully understand it before now, but I believe it to be very accurate."

He nodded. "Yeah... and for the record, I never said anything about ME being immortal," he chuckled. "But no, you're right. Last thing we need is to outlive our great-great granddaughters. It would be MISERABLE."

"Let's go see what I can do for the skeleton. We can talk of great-great-granddaughters after we figured out a name for the _bambina_." She chuckled, and used her knee to roust him off of her rapidly disappearing lap.


	16. Chapter 16

"Ah. S-Sanji-san..." The floating ghostly cloud off to the cook's right shoulder dipped and bobbed nervously, unable to speak the rest of that sentence.

The Strawhat chef nodded, understanding, and held the precious skull over the biggest soup pot they could find. It was a bit awkward, as he had to use tongs through his nakama's eye sockets, but this was the last piece. All of the other bones had come through the process of boiling and washing perfectly. They had deliberately waited, for fear that the task would ruin the thick, if somewhat stiff, curls of ebony. Blue eyes met sandy gold, and the former warlord nodded as well.

There was an intake of breath and the beginning of a sound but before anyone could do anything, Sanji plunged the thing into the boiling water in a single thrust.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH~!" Brook screamed, his ghost crying tears that disappeared before actually falling from his face.

Every single one of their Nakama was there... and every single one of them flinched. All but Sanji. But they stayed, and they watched, worried for their musician’s sake for the hair that had withstood so much and had yet to be seen by Laboon.

Croc leaned forward, perched on the edge of the stool with fingers twitching, and eyes intent on the water, an internal clock running on how long it took the salt to rinse away. She was focused, a subtle hum emanating from her core as the sands swirled at her feet. Minutes ticked by, and Sanji looked down then back up.

"Ready?" He whispered, a straw cigarette tucked between his teeth.

"Ready." She confirmed, the desert wind picking up ever so slightly.

The entire gathering held their breaths, leaning in unconsciously, and praying with everything they had. Sanji swallowed, tongs shaking with anticipation. Then he thrust! Grabbed up the skull, and immediately dunked it in cold water to stop the cooking process. Crocodile's sand swirled up and around them, obscuring everyone's vision, and she set to work.

In the wind coming off the pair of them, several strands of dark, dark thread floated past.

Don gathered these up, carefully, stroking his fingers down them soothingly, as the others tried to peer into the sandstorm.

It took an hour, and before it was over Brook himself had fainted, becoming a puddle of ectoplasmic goo on the floor at Luffy's feet. Abruptly the sands fell, disappearing into nothing, and the user slumped forward, holding herself up with her hand on the counter. She was pale, and shuddering, her breath shortened, and her hair wispy around its characteristic tail.

Don picked her up, holding her against his chest with one arm and the threads wound around his fist as he kissed her head, murmuring soothing, soft noises to his exhausted mate as Zoro and Robin moved forward to bring the skull forward and examine it.

In a word the afro was perfect. Thick, glossy, fresh. Even the dust of fifty years of sailing alone in the Florian Triangle was gone. It looked new, brand new, and the ghost that was Brook wailed happily, zooming about the room chortling a loud, "YOHOHOHOHO~! OH BINKUSU NO SAKE WO...!"

From her place in Don's arms, Croc smiled, tired and drained. "It looks okay?"

He kissed her and didn't care who looked at him funny. "It's gorgeous, Alex. Now you rest- the _leibling_ doesn't like it when you exert yourself too much, remember?

There was a slap and Don looked, but it was only Robin slapping away Zoro's heavy hand in order to put Brook's head on his neck where it belonged with her own delicate touch and he snickered, hefting her a bit higher in his arm and giving Nami a look.

She handed him a small object and moved over to the rest of her crew while Don tucked it into his pocket, never letting go of the threads on his hand-

A hand that was suspiciously starting to show wrinkles and his knuckles were oddly more prominent.

"YOSH!" Luffy exclaimed when Brook regained his body, jumping about like a loon.

The skeleton whipped his violin out of nowhere, leaping to the table and began to play his signature song while the crowd gathered about the kitchen area cheered and sang along. The newly re-assembled Franky jumped and posed, punctuating the music with 'ow' at all the wrong places. The Strawhat captain grabbed Chopper and jumped onto the table to start dancing with the reindeer. Ivankov joined in with Franky, and the Newkamas formed a can-can line.

Off to the side, Croc smiled and nestled deeper into her lover's embrace. "It feels strange, Donny."

Don kissed her head as he began moving off toward their alcove. "I'm sure it does, Alex. You've just taken sixty years off a man's hair. Played with the Sands of Time for an extended period the first time. C'mon. Let's get you in bed, and I'll finish up those pj's for the _leibling_."

She chuckled, and nodded, letting him carry her off.

On the other side of the celebration, a much shorter blond pulled an actual cigarette out of his suit pocket to replace the straw. Defeating the warden, or at least freeing him from the Fleet Admiral's control, had allowed them to access the storage lockers where everyone's personal affects were kept. It meant Law had his nodachi, Nami her Clima-tact, Wado was where she belonged, Chopper had his hat, and the chef had his smokes. He inhaled deeply and spoke with the exhale.

"Marimo..."

The rest of the sentence hung unsaid, because they both knew there was no such thing as 'okay' after witnessing something like that, even if the swordsman had played an important part in fixing the damage that had been caused.

He rumbled noncommittally. He'd been very silent and overall withdrawn since his rescue, and even returning Wado to him hadn't managed to draw him out of the taciturn shell he'd retreated into after what he'd seen down there. And watching the process to fix it- that was almost as bad. He'd forced himself to be present for every bone scraping, he'd even done a large amount of it himself. He'd been there for each and every boiling.

But even with it 'over' now, he still felt the crushing guilt and shame that he could do _nothing_ to defend his Nakama.

Saying the things that wanted to come bubbling up from his lips would do nothing and Sanji knew it. 'It wasn't your fault' was obvious, as was 'you did what you had to' and 'Brook wouldn't have wanted you to give in no matter what.' So, the long-legged chef took another deep inhale from his smoke and sat, without warning, on his lover's lap. He stared down at him for the entire time it took him to smoke the tobacco he'd been craving for longer than he'd like to admit. Then he pinched off the cherry and flung the butt with scary precision into a coffee can he'd set up on his counter just for such purposes. He reached over, took a swig from Zoro's drink to wash the taste out of his mouth, and with the alcohol still on his tongue, captured the green-haired man's mouth in a fierce kiss that previously would have been reserved for the hold at the bottom of the Sunny after everyone, but especially the ladies, had gone to bed.

It took Zoro incredibly off-guard, first Sanji taking up residence in his lap and challenging him, then kissing him with such fierce passion that for a moment, he forgot where he was- fuck he forgot WHO he was- and grasped to him tight, kissing back with equal ferocity.

When he had to break for air, Sanji's voice was rough, "There's my treasure." He nipped the chapped lips beneath him, and rolled his hips, "Fight me."

Zoro bucked up into him, growling. "You're askin' for it ta get messy," he warned, but his voice had gone low and smooth like it did before a big fight. Sanji could almost see his bandana holding his hair back.

"This whole shitty situation is messy. Don't make me fuck you up. I'll do it." Both hands wound into the green spikes and pulled, a growl punctuating the next kiss.

"Ah-!" That took him off guard- his hair had grown during his imprisonment and was _long enough to pull_ now, forcing his chin up as he attacked in return, hands on his hips and snarling. "Not if I fuck you into the floor _first_ , cook!"

"You're just gonna have to try it, shitty swordsman!"

Nimble legs wound around Zoro's waist, and twisted, sending them both to floor in a clatter that wasn't heard by the rest of the party, but put them both below the line of sight behind the counter. Sanji didn't give up his position on top easily, but when it meant being able to curl his toes around the chair rung and fling it out of the way so he could actually get at his lover, he gladly gave the ground. With his mouth, he sucked a deep bruise on the underside of the Marimo’s strong jaw, teeth grazing the skin until it tasted of copper and sweat.

As long as Sanji had that grip on his hair, Zoro was intensely aware he was throat-bared because he wasn't going to stop pulling, so instead he used his weight to pin Sanji's dangerous hips once he got him on the floor, tangling up their legs and hissing at the bruising and the teeth as his hips shoved against the rock-hard groin beneath his.

"It'll be my pleasure," he smirked at the ceiling, teeth flashing as his hands began shoving his shirt up.

"Oi! Watch the buttons, asshole!" Sanji growled, using his grip to twist the swordsman's head so he could bite above the three piercings and tug on his ear. "I just got this suit back, I don't want it ruined already."

He smirked even as the thick muscle jumped in the side of his neck. "I know. That's why I'm not bothering with 'em. Let go and I'll shove it off you."

It was a taunt. He couldn't help it. They both knew that when he got his hair freed his deadly mouth was coming into play on whatever parts of the cook he could reach.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?"

The blond twisted, freeing a hip but letting go with one hand to do it. He smirked against Zoro's neck and bent sideways to pull his leg out. In the process that powerful shin ran up the inside of his lover's thigh, grinding against the arousal that always came from their wrestling, until he could wrap his foot around Zoro's hip. An impossible stretch for anyone else, but Sanji was just getting started.

Zoro's reply turned into a garbled hiss and another snarl as his hips hiked against him. It took him several seconds to remember, and by then he was aware if Sanji could get his other leg out (and he had no illusions he could and would soon) his hips would be trapped in that inescapable vice.

"If I get m'mouth on you, _you'd_ like tha' too."

"That, Marimo, is entirely beside the point." The cook growled, hooking his knee over the swordsman's arm.

It was a precursor the move he was about to make, and if Zoro hadn't been as dazed and traumatized as he was by what had happened, he'd never have had the chance to stop it. As it was Sanji was doing everything he could to seem like this was a normal fight, but really, he was pausing with every move to give Zoro a chance to one-up him. This was about saving his lover's mind. They could get back to true dominance arguments once that was assured. So, he hesitated, using the breath of space between them to arch his exposed groin into the one above him.

Dimly, Zoro's sense of danger flared, and he realized _where_ that leg had gone and _oh hell no I'm NEVER getting stuck in that shoulder lock again_ his shoulder moved up and his hand found the back of Sanji's knee in a burst of lightning and he bent that leg all the way up to his chest, growling under his breath as his own leg pinned the other. Sanji could still easily get away- but he couldn't get good leverage like this, not with Zoro's muscled mass pushing against him.

Ohh~! He loved it when Zoro did that! The burn, the stretch... the slamming of hard cock into the sensitive place behind his own, but he bit down on the moan, and on the flesh peeking up out of the top of Zoro's shirt too. His breath was a bit ragged and it cost him the hand he still had on the swordsman's hair, but it did let him arch up, planting his heel so that his thigh did the same to his lover that was happening to him. Then he rolled his spine, effectively scissoring their groins together.

Zoro's head bent, and he smirked wickedly down at Sanji's hair as he pushed harder into Sanji's crotch and then his free hand smacked into Sanji's sternum and forced him flat so he could undo all the buttons and then his mouth came down, latching first onto his throat and giving him a matching bruise at the edge of his jaw, still holding his legs as hard as he could.

That's when the blond did moan. That _mouth~!_ He arched up, willing to concede the fight because of the passion he'd been able to inspire.

He hissed, "I said I don't want this ruined, either get my belt undone now, or I'm taking payment for the mess I'm going to make out of your hide."

Zoro pulled back to smirk at him, black eyes _gleaming_ dangerously. "Oh, you need your belt undone _right now_ , huh? I can do that," he growled, and if that wasn't warning enough he bent again, running his lips first down the length of his throat, over his pectorals (and not even stopping at a pebbled nipple, though it was tempting) right on down to the belt buckle.

Both hands fastened to Sanji's hips to hold him while he unfastened the buckle with nothing but his tongue and then used his teeth and one quick twist of his head to pull it loose so he could shove the pants down to his knees.

At that point Sanji gave up. He'd been without that mouth for _far_ too long. His back curled under him, pressing his shoulders to the tile floor of his tiny kitchen, and his hands both buried themselves in his beloved's hair. His knees fell open, and his toes bunched in his shoes. He _needed_ that mouth!

He gave a breathy whispered moan, "Zoro~!"

The other purred, a long, soft growl as he nuzzled delicately up the proud length after it was freed, and he grinned wickedly up at the blond. Then he took him down, all at once, tongue curled over him like a lollipop.

"Sanji," he murmured, voice absolutely clear as only he could manage.

The cook's eyes rolled into the back of his head, his hips bucking involuntarily. He bit his lip to stifle the moan and gripped with both fingers and knees, lost in an overwhelming pleasure that only the swordsman could give.

Zoro came after him with a vengeance. It mattered little he'd already 'subdued' Sanji enough to get his mouth on him, he knew his end goal and he was going to get there however he could: the only thing was, it might take a while. He was going to make Sanji come so hard he passed out, even if it took him twenty rounds!

It wouldn't take nearly that long. Twice maybe, but the blond man could tell his lover wasn't going to stop until he'd turned into a puddle of black, blue and yellow goo. The first orgasm hit him without warning. Coil of pleasure, snap of heat and BAM! He was done, pulsing into Zoro's mouth like a virgin from having been without for so long.

It took Zoro by surprise, he'd not expected- well, didn't matter, one down, however many more to go, and he swallowed it, but since he hadn't quite been prepared some did escape to dribble out his mouth as he pulled back and licked his lips.

"We're not done, cook. Pick your position."


	17. Chapter 17

Softened by the afterglow, his brusque façade was gone. He pulled on the handfuls of hair he still had, insisting on the Marimo bring himself over top of him.

"Just..." Sanji swallowed, fighting back emotion that neither of them was wrecked enough to deal with yet, "Just gimme a minute. Shit... shitty swordsman..."

Zoro moved up, releasing his legs and laying over top of him, a low rumble in his throat as he nuzzled into his neck, leaving little butterfly kisses and soft nips. "Alright, come down off your high."

Sanji clung to him. Tightly. Arms and legs. Wrapped like an octopus around his lover, and he buried his face in the swordsman's neck to hide the way he was collapsing. Months on end, never knowing if Zoro was even still alive. The Strawhats' first mate wasn't the only one bearing scars from the ordeal. And they hadn't even really talked about what had happened either, not that they ever really talked, but there were some things that needed to be discussed. And soon.

He murmured, words he hoped the other couldn't hear or understand, but in his heart he knew that his lover did, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. So sorry."

Zoro rocked slightly, like he was impatient, but the hand stroking Sanji's hair and the other one down his back gave it away for the comforting it was. He said nothing.

That's when the blond began to kiss him. As though, because he couldn't stop the apologies, he'd embed them into Zoro's skin with kisses, desperate, breathless kisses that tasted like salt and had nothing to do with sex. His fingers, long and nimble, tangled themselves deliberately as he traced his lover's jaw, still mumbling, eyes closed, until he could capture the swordsman's mouth again.

He cupped Sanji's jaw when he got a hold of it, kissing him back with almost painful gentleness, holding him close and a low murmur in his chest.  He didn't need to be sorry, but saying so was futile, so he tried to show it with his tongue instead.

Giving over to the heat and realness of his lover's talented mouth, the cook rolled his hips, forcing the stretched fabric of his crotch against the semi-faded erection he could still feel. With a flexibility only he could pull off, he shimmied his trousers further down, bunching it between them until he could free one leg. Then he shoved it off to the side, still gathered around his other knee, and took the swordsman's cock in his hand, stroking it back to full hardness, never once leaving Zoro's mouth.

That coaxed a surprised snort out of him, hand leaving Sanji’s jaw to brace against the floor so he didn't fall over as his hips twitched and his back shuddered from the feeling and his eyes blinked open.  It was distracting.

Sanji guided Zoro's other hand to grip his thigh and asscheek, grinding his own returning arousal against the hand he had on the swordsman's. He fumbled for a moment, barely breaking away to reach for the bottle of olive oil on the counter. Beyond it the party continued, loud and raucous, but the blond didn't care. He popped the lid off and rammed two fingers into the slippery stuff, reclaiming what little ground he'd lost by having to reach away. Then he set the thing to the side and began his own preparations with a small hiss at the intrusion.

Zoro watched, licking his lips and inhaling the scent of sweat, cigarettes, and oil as his hand stroked slowly up and down one slender thigh, dancing his fingertips up Sanji's reawakened cock, tracing the vein.

When the burn had faded, even though he knew he was still not quite stretched enough, the cook pulled his fingers out lifted his hips to offer himself, wrapping both arms around Zoro's shoulders, "Take me."

The swordsman hesitated- for all of one moment. Then he surged forward and did as he asked, filling him up with every inch of his thick erection as his mouth once more fastened to Sanji's neck, and he held still to let him adjust.

Sanji gasped, impaled and forced open in a sharp pain that nearly killed his arousal, and dug his fingers into the thick muscles of Zoro's shoulders. He shuddered a few times, tears escaping the corners of his eyes, but he was smiling, because if it hurt, it was real. If he was clenching his legs around a thick waist, it meant he wasn't dreaming, and that made him roll his hips, swallowing the hiss that wanted to break free. He pressed his cheek and nose against the side of his lover's head, and deliberately took the three gold pendants into his mouth, tugging on them to encourage the swordsman to move.

And he did, long, slow, steady movements. Gentle. He could tell Sanji was in pain and he didn't like it. He nuzzled down his neck, nipping at his shoulder, and angling his hips just right to stroke over his prostate directly.

The cook groaned, pleasure-pain blurring his thoughts, and his spine curled to meet those thrusts. He gave a flurry of kisses, pressing himself as close to his lover as he could get, "Yes. Yes. Oh god, Zoro... yes..."

He ran his lips over the shell of Sanji's ear, and his voice was a low, stunningly sexy growl. "Gimme all ya got, Sanji."

His pace urged them faster, the heat of pleasure overtaking the pain, and everything was too much and not enough all at once. He tore at Zoro's shirt, needing the skin to skin contact.

Zoro discarded it without stopping or withdrawing- he didn't need a shirt anyway- and riiiiip, it was gone, their bare chests rubbing together, slick with sweat, the gnarled flesh of his scar dragging over Sanji's soft belly and pectorals.

Similarly Sanji threw away the shirt and tie he still had over his shoulders, the chill over his back adding a shiver to his motions. He once again crashed their mouths together, grabbing the Marimo’s hair, and toppled them so that Zoro was on his back and Sanji was on his knees, bucking and rolling his hips with abandon.

It didn't faze him, his hips kept thrusting and his hands kept holding hard to his hips as he bucked up into him with a growl and a snarl, starting to feel tight all over, like his skin wasn't big enough to hold all of him, back stinging from contact with the rough floor.

"Gimme..." The cook mumbled, grinding harder, faster, pushing himself to a second, more violent orgasm, and intent on taking his beloved with him.

Zoro's snarl was deep and intensely animalistic, more vibration than sound as he shoved in once more as deep as he could get and exploded, spots and stars swirling in front of his eyes.

"Ungh!" Sanji clenched around him, "ah... Ah... AH!"

And came after a few more presses of his dick against that spot, though dry due to having been untouched and just releasing not a few minutes before.

Zoro slumped back against the floor, all tension draining out of his body with a gusty sigh as his eye flickered shut. "Fucking hell, Sanji."

The blond was still all over him, refusing to move, needing to re-memorize the taste of his skin, the feel of his muscles, the scent of sword oil and sweat. "No..." Kiss. "This..." Bite. "Was fucking..." Lick. "Heaven."

Though limp as a perfectly cooked noodle, for the first time in months, Zoro smiled. "Fair enough, cook. I'll concede that point."

"Don't get lost again, baka Marimo." Sanji grumbled, sucking intently on the soft spot under his lover's jaw to satisfy his oral fixation without having to get up.

"I don't _get_ lost, cook, for the last time, the fucking buildings move around on me," the swordsman grumbled. "And you all wander off."

"So how does that explain your chlorophylled head? You get all wound up in here," the cook jabbed one talented finger into the green curls at Zoro's temple, "and then I can't find you."

Zoro turned his head and nipped that finger. "Not all battles are external, blondie. You ought to know that."

"Yeah. But I can't make sure you don't get killed with that kind." Sanji's voice dropped to a whisper, and he grabbed a hold of his lover. "Aho swordsman... stop making me worry about you."

Said lover wrapped Sanji up in his arms and kissed his forehead, his eyebrow. "Sorry. I'll try not to."

"Better not. You're better with kids than I am." The cook flushed, reaching over to cover himself with Zoro's shirt.

That made Zoro blink- once, twice, three times. Then he turned pale. "... _kids?"_

"See, you were lost. I told you about Aly." Sanji sat up a little so he could look the swordsman in the face.

"No, see, no, that I recall, you mentioned _a_ baby. You never said anything about _kidS_. One child I can handle, if it's twins or triplets I won't sleep until after the first year!"

"It is only one! You're still better with them than I am!" He growled, mostly because he was trying not to pout. "And so what... you're saying that's it?! That's the only child we're ever allowed to have?! _Do you know what it's going to be like prying that baby away from Doflamingo!?"_

"Well we can have as many as you want, I guess," Zoro said slowly, turning the idea over. "But more than one baby- like, infant baby- at a time stresses people out so much none of the kids get proper attention and that's not fair to anyone. So one _at a time_ would be best. And even the birdbrain has to sleep eventually," he added. "Plus you can appeal to Croc, he'll make Don let you have time with her."

Sanji was still _not_ pouting, and he grumbled. "Point." He was quiet for a bit, ducking back down to pillow his head over Zoro's heart, "Are you sure you're okay with all of this? I mean... I had sex with someone else, while you were away. A girl, no less."

His lover’s shoulder rolled in a little shrug. "You were protecting _him_. And I never asked you to stick with just me. You've always liked girls."

Zoro tried not to think about it too much, because he couldn't make sense of the ambiguous feeling of apathy he felt about the whole situation. On the one hand, it protected Croc from a much worse fate. On the other, Sanji had had sex with someone else. On the other-other hand, he'd never asked Sanji to be with him alone. On yet another hand, there was now a child involved. It was all very mixed up but mostly neutral and the way Sanji kept asking if it was okay gave him the sense he was supposed to be upset about it. Or something.

But he just wasn't.

"I appreciate ladies as they are meant to be appreciated, especially in a world infested with boorish shitty bastards like y—them." Sanji choked on the word because he really couldn't bring himself to insult his lover right now. "That doesn't mean I actually want to have sex with them."

"Oh I get that. But in the instances you do maybe want to have sex with them, I wouldn't mind, I think." His hands stroked absently over whatever skin was in reach. "Just as long as you don't get any sicknesses from it."

"Ugh! You're impossible." But instead of pulling away or kicking him, as had happened in the past, Sanji just banged his forehead against Zoro's sternum, apparently giving up. "How can you be so calm about all of this!? I'd be kicking your head in."

The swordsman shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I'm just not... upset or mad. I don't feel you did anything wrong. I don't know why. And you never have to worry about me anyway," he added with a little chuckle, poking his lover’s forehead. "Remember? I'm not attracted to anyone else."

"I know. You don't know how good that is for my nerves, but I know. It's why I'm monogamous for you. It's weird, Marimo, and makes me nauseous." He stuck his tongue out.

Bad move- in an instant, Zoro took that tongue with his, letting him feel the lightest pressure of teeth until he'd kissed him breathless. "You don't have to be," he replied when he was done. "Be monogamous that is. But I appreciate it."

Sanji turned into a limp noodle, and cooed. "That wasn't fair, mosshead."

His teeth flashed in a grin he could only have learned from one place. "All's fair in love and war, my fair love-cook~"


	18. Chapter 18

Crocodile frowned in her sleep, her brows drawing together and her upper lip curling into a silent snarl. Something was pulling at her. Some unknown force in a rhythmic ebb and flow of tension and relaxation, but more than that... it felt like hands grabbing and reaching for the something every time it tensed away from her. A sharp tug actually had her jolting forward on the bed, hand flying behind her to catch herself from falling off the edge. Sleep blurred her vision as she looked around. The alcove was dark, only the lights from outside gave her any shapes to see, and a growing pit of fear threatened to swallow her as she realized she was alone. Again.

Her breath picked up and her hand actually shook as she pushed the blankets back. She rolled over, sweeping the room for any sign, anything that would tell her he hadn't just disappeared again. Her heart pounded in her chest and she flew to her knees to look under the bed, only to have the panic climb higher when he wasn't there. She surged to her feet, only capable of moving so fast because she turned her legs to sand first, and spun to have several nearly invisible threads slice across her face.

"Gyah!" She expected it to hurt, being as tense as she was, only it didn't, which gave her pause. She blinked, reforming a step back from where she'd been. "I... can..."

She reached her hand out and touched the wire, confusion plain on her face. She'd never been able to see them before. She could sense them, any good Haki user could, but see them? Feel them? Actually manipulate herself around them without dissolving into sand first? That she'd never been able to do. She traced them with both hand and eyes as far as she could reach, and then followed the part she couldn't touch with her vision, picking out thread after thread after thread like she was staring into a spider's web, finding each new layer the longer she looked at it. All of it led to the doorway, woven intricately across it, designed specifically to catch anyone entering the alcove with the razor-sharp external edge.

"Ah..." She marveled at how complex the trap was, and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "So protective, beautiful bird."

That was when she discovered one, far thicker and much brighter, leading straight through the web and out into the common room. She ducked and weaved around the dangerous ones to pull the curtain away. This let more of the lamplight into their alcove and she made a small sound of discovery at the fact that light hid the threads from her unless she was concentrating on a specific one. She nodded, making mental notes of everything, before stepping out, following that bright thread.

A few steps out she shivered and crossed her arms under her chest, her shirt several inches too short to cover all of her skin. She'd forgotten the haramaki in her panic, and without it she found herself chilled by the less populated Newkama Kingdom. With the entire prison to themselves the only ones still inhabiting that part were the Okamas themselves, both old and new, the Strawhats, Croc's remaining subordinates, and the Donquixotes. It made the temperature drop significantly overall, but especially when most of the Okamas were... crowded around... the... gym???

She frowned, confused, but also suspicious, because the thread she was following led there too. Her steps were hesitant after seeing the crowd—given what she'd witnessed the last time she'd gone after her lover when he was training.

Inside there was much milling, muttering, twittering and giggling. But underneath that, rhythmic, grunting breaths. The soft plop of sweat falling to the soft mats underneath.

Don heard none of it. Saw none of it either. After... after putting Croc to bed, and after what he'd done while she slept—

He had to remind himself he was still flexible and young. He wasn't- it had been temporary, he _was not—_

So he brought himself here. He was doing crunches, but while hanging upside down from the chin-up bar. His shirt had fallen off from gravity some time ago to be thrown aside, and he'd swapped out his normal pants for a pair of athletic shorts when he'd first come in so he could grip the bar with his knees and calves.

The threads he'd found tugging incessantly at him while he worked out, so he'd dismissed them, and his 'sight' with it, and now he'd been hanging upside down so long he couldn't hear anything except the beat of his own heart in his ears and the rushing of blood. He'd never heard the first Okama come in and he definitely wasn't aware of how they were crowded just outside his heat-sensing range to ogle him.

Oh... now that!

"Ohh~!" The sound escaped her lips unconsciously and color rose on her cheeks.

So _that_ was what attraction was like. Hunger but at the same time no food in the world would ever satisfy the craving. She wanted, and she wanted _now!_

A giggle to her right drew her attention from the curling, rippling muscles, dripping with sweat and... what had she been doing? Oh right... the interlopers. She actually bared her teeth, glaring at the drooling onlookers.

"Back off!"

"Oh we know he's yours, honey, but _look at him!"_ The one in front swooned.

She growled loudly. "Back. Off."

One of the others pouted. "Spoil sport. The least you could do is _share."_

That set her off and she launched herself, claws out, at the bitch who dared trespass in her territory with a shriek that echoed almost as much as the Haki-infused thud of the Okama's head against the wall. They rolled, the cross-dresser's wig flying off in a flurry of scratches that would have been so much more effective if Croc had actually had her hook. The other watching Okamas cat-called taunting and teasing that in her fecund state the sand user would never be able to win, and that if she lost she'd be giving up her rights to the hunk of manflesh currently displaying himself so temptingly.

THAT Don heard!

He flipped off the bar with all the grace of the hunting cats he used to keep and launched himself, string sense coming alive to direct him as he interceded between Croc and—an Okama?? The fuck?

Nails went clawing down the scars on his back, raking and opening and drawing blood, and though it wrenched a cry from him he didn't back down, still between the two who had been fighting.

"What in th'flyin’ fuck is goin’ on here?!"

At the same time both of them shrieked, _"SHE STARTED IT! NO I DIDN'T! YOU DID!"_

"Don' matter who started it," he snapped, struggling to remain in one language, "what matters is WHAT D’YOU T'INK YOU ARE DOIN’? You!" He whirled on Crocodile, blood flying, "exerting yourself like dis, is risking de _leibling!_ Und you!" He whirled on the Okama. "Fightin’ a person wiz a child on way, you should know betta!"

Suitably cowed, the Okama simply huffed and bent down to pick up her wig. She straightened it back on her head, and sniffed. "If it slows her down she shouldn't have let it happen."

"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!!" Croc tried to push past her lover, snarling, hair flying in her face, and sand swirling to steal the moisture from the blood in the air.

Don held her back with one arm. " _Schatz_ , shoosh now. You stress, is not good for _liebling_. Und I never said anyt’ing about slowin’ down. She has not slowed down one bit- und dat is why it is a threat to de child. She fight hard, und a baby cannot handle dat."

"Hee haw!"

The voice of their king broke through whatever the offended Okama was going to say, and Ivankov's eyebrow raised in question. Without another word the rest of the group broke up, trailing off and finding other things suddenly far more interesting than the conversation. He said nothing to the pair, but the look in his eye softened in apology before chasing after his Okama shouting about if they had time to ogle cute boys they had time to be practicing their kempo.

Left alone with Don, Croc seethed. "Don't lecture me."

He went looking for his shirt, then used it as a towel. "I am not. What th’ fuck were all of dem doin’ clustered in 'ere anyway? Surely dey did not just stalk up in 'ere to catfight, right?"

Now the color from before returned to her face, though it betrayed her by tinting the back of her neck and her ears. "They were... watching you."

He blinked. Several times. Then he stuffed the sweaty shirt under his arm to scratch his head. "What for? I have not even varied my workout, not'in’ but th’ sit-ups since I started. What on earth were dey watchin’??"

She giggled, her nose wrinkling up, "You sound funny."

The tension from earlier drained and she closed the distance between them, biting her lip. She drew her finger down his chest, tracing the lines caused by the ridges of his muscles from pectorals to abdominals. Her breathing picked up and a fire lit in her eyes.

"They were watching you, _Uccellino_. Your strength, your form, you are... ohhh..." Her voice was wanting, and if she didn't know better, she would think she was salivating.

His voice dropped half an octave before he could stop it and he pressed a little closer into her hand. "If I didn't know better... I would mebbe t'ink you were watching too, und _wanting_ ," he purred, hand coming up to cup and caress her cheek.

Her chest heaved and she whined before she could stop herself, turning her face to draw his thumb into her mouth and sucking, eyes locked on his.

His smile turned wicked. "You have two choices, my love. We defile the workout room here and now, or we take this to bed. Pick quickly, or we will wind up wiz option number one."

She pulled her mouth off of his finger slowly, letting her tongue curl around the pad before letting go, "As much as I would _adore_ to show those _puttana_ that you are mine in public where they all can watch and cannot touch, I am entirely too greedy. You. Are. Mine. And I'll not have anyone thinking they can force me to _'share'_ ever again."

She stepped back, tugging with her eyes, and then she wrapped her hand around the thread she'd followed to find him and _pulled!_

Don gave a sharp gasp and stumbled forward- and the little athletic shorts showed every single bit of what that had done to him, too. That particular thread had many purposes and many connections- and well, in this particular instance, it had also worked like an 'on-off' switch for his groin.

He swept her up and started moving, kissing all available skin as he went. "Nobody will ever get me when you do not want to share," he promised breathily, "but I still like it when you do THAT."

"Oh do you?" She grinned against his lips, still guiding him back towards their alcove. She tugged on the thread again, wrapping it around her finger with a purr, "I think I like it when I do that too."

His hips hitched, yanked by the string, and he growled. "This will happen in th’ hallway if you keep it up," he warned. "I cannot hafff much control when you do that."

She chuckled darkly. "Then you'd better open a path through your web, Mr. Spider. Else we'll be stuck out here, and you'll make a mess in your shorts."

He waved his hand and a path opened up from the door to the bed in a perfect straight line, down which he began to lead her, practically running as with another hand wave the curtain shut itself.


	19. Chapter 19

Since she didn't have to worry about guiding them any further, she drew her hand over the thread, in a manner that she hadn't used since before she'd cut off the other one. Very few people knew Crocodile had been a musician in her spare time, and treating the connection like the string on a harp was easy, rolling her fingers and plucking it in a rhythm she knew by heart.

Don was reduced to a writhing mess on the bed in seconds. His strings were part of him—and she was _literally_ playing him. He'd never known there could be a sensation like that.

Watching his reaction was better than actually getting into it herself, and she sat back to give herself more room to work as she changed the rhythm slightly, playing a folk tune from her homeland about a sailor gone to sea that was both raunchy and suggestive. She leered as he writhed, and she unconsciously rolled her hips against his thigh.

He hissed, long and loud, and his head tossed as the music rang in his ears, her touch all over his body at once, and then, unconsciously- against his will, almost- all the strings in the room except the ones right over the door itself faded and rearranged until all that was left was an actual harp shape, hanging almost invisibly in the air, and right in reach of her hand while Don panted, trying to scramble together some semblance of wits with the respite the shifting of strings had granted him.

She stopped, drawing her hand away and her mangled wrist close to her chest. An actual harp? She... hadn't played since... she didn't have the dexterity, it wouldn't... she looked down at him nervous and withdrawn, looking for encouragement.

He blinked fuzzily at it. He didn't actually recognize that shape- he'd never been musically inclined. If he had any talent, he'd never known it.

"...I didn't do it. It must be for you," he said slowly, a little breathlessly. "I don't even know what it is. They- they must be responding to you. So um… Play it, I guess? See what—" He reached forward, curiously, and when he ran his finger across the littlest, tightest string he made a low sound absolutely incomprehensible as anything other than pure pleasure.

"Ohmygodthatone'sconnectedtomydick."

Delicious evil curled her smile and she lifted her hand to it. Bracing the frame with her stump, she drew her fingers across the strings, just testing for a moment. Then light appeared in her eyes and she began to play, lilting and happy from the bottom of the strings to the top, and as she fell into the effect it was having on him, her sand reacted, sliding along to fill in the notes she was missing.

He let out a long, high cry as his eyes rolled back into his head and his body bucked and writhed, his thigh grinding into the soft place between her legs, pressing up against her button as he hissed and twisted. That much pleasure all at once- he'd never felt anything even remotely close- he was going to overload without ever being touched!

Her own pleasure she ignored, actually lifting herself away from him to continue playing undistracted. She grinned as the music hit a crescendo, and her fingers flew closer and closer to the tiniest string.

He could hear the actual music and vibration of the harp in his ears, his eyes squeezed shut, grasping desperately at the bed and a convenient pipe as his hips bucked harder, his spine twisted, and his body drew as tight as one of the instrumental strings. All his decades of stamina, out the window- he was going to make a mess in his shorts, just like she promised.

She slowed, tripping the notes one after another, drawn out, long, held vibrating. Closer. Closer. Another pluck. Another strum. And then...

_PINNNNNNNNG~!_

Don's world exploded in heat and light and he wasn't sure what happened after that for quite some time.

"Donny?" Her voice was amused, drifting through his consciousness like an echo on the summer breeze. "Rise and shine, _Uccellino_."

He shifted a bit, whining softly. "Nnngh... murf..."

"Donny- _cellino_ ," she sprinkled kisses on his collar bones, drawing her fingers through his strings gently.

He came fully awake with a yelp, feeling the vibrations right down into his bones. "Wha-?!"

"It's moving day, beloved. You need to get up now."

He blinked. "...what? But... that wasn't for a couple more days...."

She laughed, smiling indulgently. "That was almost a week ago. Law sent you under when he found out you dehydrated yourself with that sit-ups stunt."

He sat up. "I did? But I wasn't working out that long!"

"But then afterwards..." Her sandy gold eyes sparkled with mischief and she played her fingers across his chest, "was worth the talking to."

For the first time in his memory, Don blushed- yes, not a flush, but a blush, high and delicate pink in the apples of his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. "I'll say it was."

"You don't remember anything after the first round, do you?" She purred, aligning her body as best she could against his, still drawing gentle patterns on his pectoral over his heart.

"...There was something after the first round?"

"Oh there was plenty after the first round." Her tone, her body language, the expression on her face... a cat on a dairy farm wouldn't have a chance at being so content.

"Well, I'm glad you remember it then," he said after a moment or two. "I've got nothin'. We'll have to do a repeat performance sometime, hm?"

"Oh, I'm always up for an encore with you, but Mugiwara says it's time to go. So you have to get up, shower, eat, and pack the _bambina's_ things into your coat. We're marching on Marineford at dawn." She sighed a little, and her hand stilled.

He sat up, suddenly much more alarmed. "Marineford? So soon?"

The sand user had a harder time sitting up than he did, especially when she was laying on her bad side. So she glared at him for a minute as she pushed herself into a seated position, deliberately not using her powers.

"Yes. Mugiwara wants to get it over with, why?"

Because he hadn't gathered enough yet! He only had enough for _one_ and having just one wasn't a good emergency backup! But he bit it back- Croc, he was sure, would kill him if she knew what he'd done. It had been a dangerous experiment indeed.

"Because I wasn't expecting- I was thinking we had more time. But I suppose the boy has the right of it. I'll... I'll go shower and dress." He stood from the bed entirely and kissed her, sweetly. "Would you gather up the _leibling's_ things for me to pack into my coat when I get back, please?"

She kept frowning at him. Of course she'd pack everything but something about his attitude bothered her.

Just as he was about to leave the alcove she huffed, "You can't keep anything from me for long you know."

He laughed, looking over his shoulder. "It's just me worrying about the war. We'll win, I'm sure... but I'm afraid of what the cost will be."

There was no other word for it. She pouted, her shortened arm draped across her belly, and holding her weight up with her hand. Clearly she didn't believe him, but she let him go without another word, levering herself up off the bed with a grunt she wouldn't let _anyone_ else hear so she could start gathering the crocheted wardrobe they had been collecting over the last several weeks. She braced her back with her hand and rubbed down her front smoothing her shirt with her other forearm.

"Six weeks, _bambina_. Six weeks and I'm evicting you." She chuckled as the internal person made her objection to that idea known.

Then Croc set about picking things up to put into the center of the topmost blanket. As she lifted an armful of nappies the breeze as she turned whisked one of them off of her pile and she watched with sinking spirits as it floated gently to the floor. She glared at it. Dared the thing to pick itself back up. Something she hadn't mentioned to her lover that had begun happening as she entered the homestretch of her pregnancy, her ease with using her sand was dimming. It took greater and greater effort to do the simplest things. So, expending the energy to lift the handkerchief from the floor was a trivial waste of power that she needed to conserve to at least do _something_ when they took down the Fleet Admiral.

It was with that in mind that she dumped the cloths on the blanket and stalked—waddled—back over to the fallen one. She glared at it a few more moments before moving. First she bent forward, and nearly smacked her forehead on a pipe. Second, she leaned sideways. Her fingertips brushed it and only succeeded in pushing the thing closer to the floor.

"COME ON!"

She growled, and turned to bend backwards, ungainly and awkward, her belly thrust forward and her legs splayed. Her cheeks puffed out and her teeth clenched. Closer. Closer. SO CLOSE! She grunted again, trying to balance herself so she wouldn't end up on the ground, and wound up literally _just_ above where she needed to be, her hand waving back and forth ineffectively in her frustration.

A trio of strings, which had been hanging listlessly around the pipes, suddenly straightened, scooped up the cloth, and smacked into her hand with the nappy in tow like eager puppies bringing the paper. They then remained there, slithering and squirming over her hand, twisting through her fingers.

"Oh!"

In her surprise at actually obtaining the cloth, Croc's elbow slipped on the counter surface that had been their combined dresser and storage shelf, balanced on a couple of pipes. With a cry of frustration and a loud crash, the shelf slid off-balance, clattered to the ground and brought the former shichibukai with it.

Doflamingo, who had been watching from the doorway, peeking, flicked a hand and the threads came around to sling beneath her and pull her to her feet slowly. He, meanwhile, bolted down the corridor and would never in his life admit to what he'd just seen.

Rubbing her rear end, though her ego was more bruised than her flesh, Crocodile huffed, addressing her belly again. "Six. Weeks. That's it, _bambina."_

Don returned about half an hour later, in nothing but the glittering remains of the shower and a towel around his waist.

And a blush.

"I am going to be glad when we have _private_ showers again. You weren't kidding about the Okamas looking at me. I don't think I've ever got so many wolf whistles in my life!"

Crocodile growled. "I'll kill them."

She was seated on the bed again, the baby's clothes wrapped into a bundle for easy carrying. They hadn't bothered over the last month to bring their personal effects down from the storage lockers. One, because none of Croc's clothes would fit, and two, they both knew she would be entirely too tempted to steal Don's coat as she had been stealing his shirts since he got there. She was looking forward to having her hook again, though she'd grown comfortable having it bare. Something she'd never been able to bring herself to do before this whole ordeal.

He hastened over to her and kissed her. "No, no, don't do that. You need to save your strength. We sail for Marineford, after all. Besides. They can whistle and catcall me all they want, because they're never gonna see what's under this towel." It covered him from hips to knees- it covered even more skin than the shorts had. "The only one who's seeing that lately is you~"

And then he undid the knot and let it fall so she could watch him sashay over to where he'd left his clothes laid out.

"Now you know that isn't fair." She squirmed, eying him from knees to chin and back again with every step. "You're asking for us to delay them, you know that right?"

He put on his best innocent face, turning around to give her a full frontal and put his hands on his hips. "Am I supposed to feel bad about that?"

She leaned back, biting her lip. "Mugi-Mugiwara wouldn't... we'd be... that isn't fair, Donny, and you know it."

He grinned, all wickedness and wiles. "All's fair in love and war~"

"You've... said that... before..." Her shirt rode up with each breath as the pace picked up and her eyes stopped moving from what she wanted.

He stalked a bit closer to her and licked his lips, eyes glinting. "Want to play my strings again?"

She shook her head, mimicking him, "Need you... coherent... but..."

She reached for him, pulling on him before he even got close enough to touch. There was a part of her brain that was complaining that she was too sex-focused, but with him standing there, nude, and presenting for her, she was able to tell it to shut the fuck up so she could concentrate on getting him close enough to get her mouth on him.

Don came in the rest of the way to meet her, trilling his pleasure at her touch as his lips came to find hers. He was the male he'd always been- the brightly feathered bird, displaying for his mate nigh-constantly, striving to impress and please. It was finally paying off, that was all, as far as his primitive brain was concerned.

Croc moaned as soon as their lips met and she was running her hand up his leg to his side the second she had a hold of him. She used her mangled wrist to shove the bundle off the other side of the bed and pulled him down on top of her. She was enthusiastic and met most of his kisses with passion and teeth that nipped at him, wanting him more each time they did things.

If it weren't for his height this would not be possible; the way he almost crouched over her, back bending so he didn't press against her stomach and the growing life within. But as it stood, he was easily able to stroke his fingers down the cleft of her desire, one hand massaging a breast. The closer she got to giving birth, the bigger, heavier, and more painful they got. He made a point to try and drain them as often as possible to ease the discomfort.

It didn't hurt that it tended to work her up as well.

She arched into him, for the first time in her life relishing the way her body worked. It was sensation and pleasure and even the pain that came with everything was worth it, just to feel him touch her like that. She planted her heels, her hand finding the hair at the back of his neck, and she devoured him, drinking him in like the most expensive spirit she could get.

He answered her with equal passion, equal hunger. His hands took and used every sensitive spot to her benefit, everything he had he gave to her and took all she offered. She was his, all his, right here and now. His thumb found the hottest button of all and he flicked it, mercilessly.

With the speed he'd used to overwhelm her, she came quickly, gripping onto him, and shuddering into a puddle of good feelings. She purred, nuzzling into his neck sleepily.

She mumbled, curling into him, "Not fair, Donny..."

He nuzzled into her, cooing softly and cleaning her up with his towel, which was still damp. Then he kissed her and cuddled until he felt the afterglow starting to wear off.

"Mmm... is so fair. After what you reduced me to playing my strings. Anyway... I suppose it's time to go," he sighed, hands still stroking absent patterns over her skin.

That sobered her, she was tempted to withdraw, but if there was one thing the last several weeks had taught her it was to speak up instead of shutting down. "This is going to be dangerous, Don. I don't want you taking risks you shouldn't take." Her eyes were hard when they met his. "There is more at stake this time than just being executed. The entire future of the world rests on this fight, and he's expecting us. He has the strongest observational Haki user ever witnessed. He knows we're coming and he knows what we plan to do. Just... don't underestimate him because he's young."

His mind turned to his preparations and his mouth tightened. "I won't. I promise. We're Fate and Time, Alex. If there's anything that can cloud his Haki it's us. I'm a secret weapon all by myself, for fate is ever changing and ever undecided. Every little decision and every turn in life unfolds millions of billions of new futures."

He leaned in and kissed her again.

"But I need you to make me a promise. Croc, if it looks like I-" his voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "If I go down. Don't stay. Flee. Run and take the _bambina_ to safety if I fall."

"I..." She wanted to say that between the two of them he was far more likely to be able to get away since he could travel without a ship, but she didn't. She took his hand and brought it to where the little girl was kicking so he could feel it. "Before we go. Before I promise. Can we name her?"

His eyes came up to meet hers. "We should. Did you think of one you liked?"

"What is angel in your native language?"

He wrinkled his nose. "It's _crashviti_. Don't call her that, for all things good in the world."

Croc mimicked him, "Why does it have the word 'crash' in it?"

"I don't know. Maybe because it's assumed any angels we humans might meet would be fallen? What about Magpie?"

"A bird? A bird who steals things." She groaned, "And sounds like it swallowed stones! You're dooming the child to never sing. Ever."

He stuck out his tongue. "Well then make me a better suggestion."

"How about Michaela?" She kissed his nose.

It twitched and he nuzzled closer. "Mmm. Sounds... too foreign. Other kids will mispronounce it and make fun of her."

"As if they'd dare with you for her other father." She sniffed, cuddling him. "Your turn. And not another bird that sounds like a grackle."

He snorted. "I should suggest Hummingbird next but even I can't imagine naming a child THAT. What about Margaret?"

"Spell it Marguerite and we have a deal. The last thing I want her thinking is that she has to grow up to be some Amazon." She snickered. "Besides, I rather want to acknowledge her sire. He did a lot for me, even though I know it still bothers you."

He crossed his arms over his chest as he considered, then replied after a few more moments, "I will concede to Marguerite. But so help me, if Blackleg starts teaching her French I will proceed to teach her every German curse I know!"

"Teach her words of love instead." The smile that grew on her face was sadistic and far too pleased with herself, "After all, _ich lieb dich_ is beautiful when said like you're going to kill someone."

Any retort he might have had died on his lips as he went red in the face. Even said conversationally, those words, from Crocodile, were enough to blank his entire thought process.

"It's good for that reaction too, _Uccellino_." She kissed his slack jaw, and purred. "How many times must I say it before you finally believe me?"

He buried his face in her neck. "It's not that I doubt you." His voice was almost comically high and squeaky. "It's that I don't think I'll ever get _used_ to you saying it!"

She tilted her chin to place her lips directly next to his ear, and trilled, _"Ich lieb dich, mien schatz."_

He gave another of those high squeaks, a sort of 'hiih' noise, and held her closer. _"Anche io ti amo, il mio destino."_

"Always." She purred, "But..." And with that she pulled back regretfully, "we have to go. I swear on Marguerite's life I won't be reckless, but we must go a secure a future for her, before Mugiwara decides we're not coming and leaves without us."

He sighed and once more turned to his clothes, slipping into them and then offering her his hand. "Alright. Let's go get our things and roll out."

A string brought the baby things under his arm, and he tried not to think too hard about the hard lump the spindle made in his back pocket.


	20. Chapter 20

"I don't trust it."

Clear skies, full sails, calm waters. The whole day was perfect. And to Crocodile, who was leaning on the railing of the command deck, it was entirely too perfect. She didn't like it.

It was a trap. They all knew it. The rebellion had five ships. That alone was enough to make them all wary, as standard navel procedure meant they all should have been pulled away as soon as it became clear that the rebellion had taken the prison. But seeing as Impel Down was still within the Calm Belt, there was very little that could be done about it.

The booby trapped ships were the only way off the island.

Because of the sheer number of Devil Fruit users who’d been imprisoned, three of the ships were sent in retreat. They carried a skeleton guard and anyone who neither had Haki nor were very experienced with their powers. Though she might have been an asset in the final confrontation, Luffy sent the Amazon Empress, Boa Hancock, to guide the weaker pirates through the Calm Belt. They would take refuge around Amazon Lily until word reached them of Luffy’s success.

That left the Strawhats, Donquixotes, Hearts, Kids, what was left of Baroque Works, and a handful of marines that refused to serve under a Fleet Admiral who would discard justice in favor of prejudice. Most notably former vice admiral Smoker stood beside Luffy himself at the helm of the flagship, on which Croc was riding. Spread out among the decks their subordinates trained carefully, not expending too much energy, but getting in some last minute practice before they arrived.

If she hadn’t spent most of the last year with these people, Crocodile might have considered the situation odd, but she had her mind on other things.

Several notable people were missing. A couple of them were Devil Fruit users, and others were simply like the Strawhat first mate in that they’d never stand for this sort of discrimination. They were powerful people! Strong enough to rebel in their own right! It pulled at her, and made her uneasy. The prison had been emptied. Every cell had been released. And they hadn't been found. Knowing what she knew of how to hurt people... the ones who were missing... most of them would definitely be people she would hold on to in the case of Luffy doing exactly as he had done.

Contemplating this, Crocodile frowned. Something caught her eye. "Mugiwara! There is a person in our path."

"Really?!" The rubber man shot himself to the fore of the ship and whooped, "HAWKY!!!! OI!!!!"

Zoro, who was there and tense as a bowstring, caught his captain by the shoulder. He was practically vibrating where he stood, and he held onto Luffy hard enough that if he hadn't been a rubber man, his bones would have been cracking instead of just deforming.

"No, Captain."

"Aw, why?" Luffy looked up at his first mate, confused but ceased his waving.

The swordsman leaned forward, over the rail, jaw clenched and his scarred eye opening as the iris turned hawk-ringed. "Because there's something very wrong."

"I cannot let you pass, Mugiwara-san."

The Black Blade slid from its sheath with a soft sound that carried, just as his words had, over the distance between them, cutting through the noise as surely as his sword would cut through the ships themselves.

Zoro's hand tightened on Wado's hilt. He could feel burning in his shoulders from a one-eyed gaze but he ignored it, and before anyone could tell him not to, he vaulted the railing.

A long fighting deck unfolded from the front of the ship right at water level and he landed, agile as a cat, with a mental note of thanks to Franky. They couldn't afford to lose any ships and Sanji had told the shipwright about this from the Baratie; they'd successfully managed to cobble together one for each ship just in case.

"And why not, sensei?"

The word burned his tongue.

Mihawk took his stance without another word, every bit the experienced, intent, swordsman he'd always been. From his plumed hat to the boots on his feet to the cape that billowed behind him when he landed on the edge of the unfolded wood. He stood, drawing up like living ink only to have the wind whip both feather and cloth around to the side. The collar of his cape pulled back and a metal ring with a small, blinking light set off center was revealed around his neck.

"I cannot let you pass, my student." He repeated, swinging his blade around to the ready, and watching.

The hawk’s eye Zoro had not yet closed narrowed to a pinprick. "...I see. Very well. Then I suppose... it must be time to see who the world's greatest swordsman is in truth, isn't it?"

He removed his bandana and tied it over his head, pinning his hair back out of his eyes, and settled into his own stance. He then drew his own swords, settling Wado between his teeth with infinite care. A poor grip could mean his death here.

Balancing his sword in his hand, Mihawk calculated, waiting, watching, judging his own ability to teach and Zoro's capacity to learn. It had been a long time since the green-haired young man had cut down the gorilla that utilized the duplicate of the Black Blade, and not once had master and disciple ever actually crossed swords themselves. An implicit agreement had been struck then that Zoro had bested him, but to actually put that assumption to the test was to ask for blood to be drawn. A tightening of sharp eyebrows conveyed the heavy truth, only one of them would walk away from this.

Zoro opened his other eye with an almost imperceptible nod. He understood. He didn't want to, but he understood. And he knew what his mission was.

The question was: could he? Or had his time imprisoned on the lowest level of Impel Down sapped him so badly that he no longer could?

The pair watched each other. Both acutely aware that wasting energy clashing together multiple times would only result in a long, drawn-out stalemate. Energy crackled between them, eyes narrowing and the entire fleet stopped what they were doing to watch. Somewhere beyond the tension on the fighting deck someone tried to jump down, only to be caught in a combination of hands, sand and strings. This was their fight, and it was clear the Pirate King would have no one interfering.

Mihawk slipped his weight from one foot to the other, his blade sang, and the edge kissed Wado as the parry came up with equal patience. Zoro shifted in the opposite direction and again the Black Blade and Wado met gently. The light of determination lit them both from the inside out. One stepped back, the other forward, and then in reverse. Both testing, tasting. And then...

Mihawk struck, flying faster than the wind, bright green lighting up the deadly edge with killing intent.

There was only one eye that could see the move—see the counter—and it was the one he'd put himself in Zoro's head.

Wado's blade lit black as she held back the mighty Black Sword, and Kitetsu and Shuusui gleamed red down to the hilts as Zoro's left eye slowly closed again.

For a second, everything froze. Breath, wind, hearts, everything. The echoes of steel against steel rocked from the epicenter of the fight like a concussive wave. One shift to the right and it would Zoro's life. One shift to the left and it would be Mihawk's that was forfeit. The question was which way had the pair clashed.

Then... the spurt of blood was the signal for everything to move again.

"You... have learned... well..." The swordsman's voice was faint as he slipped from his student's grip, a trickle of blood staining the porcelain of his cheek, "...my... student..."

Zoro's eyes were pained and soft as he helped him down, taking Wado from his teeth and laying his teacher on the deck on his back, where it would hurt him least while he... faded.

"You taught me well. Sensei." His voice was thick and his throat was choked. "Never doubt. Never hesitate. Never backtrack. And never surrender."

The black sword lay next to him, only propped up slightly through sheer willpower, and his opposite hand gripped the green-haired man's arm. "I was... the least... of your opponents, my student." Mihawk drew a shaky breath, wet and gurgling, "From here on... they will get... closer..."

Another word lingered on his lips as the gold in his eyes faded. He seemed so urgent, the message so important, but whatever he'd have said next was lost, the twitch of dying nerves forcing him to exhale thickly through the pooling life fluid in his lungs. Around them, the pirates who'd known him, or at least witnessed him fight, grabbed a hold of each other to sob silently, and in slow motion, though it had so little distance to fall, the Black Blade, signature of Hawk-Eyes Mihawk, fell, inch by inch, until it clattered to the deck.

Crocodile turned away, eyes closed and her hand over her mouth. Damn the hormones. She looked to Don after a moment, wishing she had a pair of shades to hide behind the way he did. Beside her Luffy took the iconic hat from his head and held it over his chest. A small trail of smoke and the hitch of someone's breath spoke that all of the Strawhats held the same regard for their first mate's sensei as he did, and a heavy air clung to the circled ships in spite of the clear blue sky above.

Don's eyes were closed behind his shades and though he had no hat, he held his hand over his heart.

And it was only once the Black Sword fell, almost simultaneously, that Zoro's heartrending cry of grief ripped across the air.

His one black eye burned as he crossed Mihawk's arms over his chest and picked up his body to take him to his small, coffin-shaped ship. He'd once asked about its peculiar shape; and Mihawk had told him exactly why. For this.

He covered his face with his hat and his body with his cape. Chopper could have given him bandages for wrapping, but Mihawk did not want to be buried a mummy at sea. Carefully, he pulled out and unfolded the hidden panels on each of the four sides, the two long and the two short, throat tight and painful. He pounded the nails down into place with his bare fists and gently pushed it off.

The small craft, attuned to its owner's will, would go where Mihawk was meant to lay and sink.

They would pay for this.

Franky activated the mechanism to draw the fighting deck back in, carrying the World's Strongest Swordsman back to his captain so all he'd have to do was step off and he'd be back on the ship proper. As soon as he had done so, Luffy put his hat back on his head so that it shadowed his eyes, and threw his fist into the air. The resulting battle cry was both angry and anguished.

THEY WOULD PAY FOR WHAT THEY'D DONE!

Zoro, though numb, managed to pass along the message to his captain as best he could. He clapped a hand to his shoulder again, eye bleak and hurting. "It will get worse. The closer we get, the-the closer... the closer the people they put in our way will be."

"Ah." Luffy agreed, his eyes narrowing as the ships resumed moving.

The shore of Marineford appeared without further incident, and it was obviously a trap. The navy had the bay ringed with warships, but the entire harbor itself was clear, even so far as there weren't any soldiers waiting for them on foot. The rampart wall was bare, the guns withdrawn, and for all intents and purposes the original base of operations for the arm of the World Government looked deserted. Abandoned to the elements, except for the lawn was cut and the paint was fresh in brilliant white and stark navy blue.

Flanking the Pirate King, his Nakama on one side; Don, Croc, Law and Kid on the other; and behind him the four naval officers that had thrown their lot in with their former enemies. Someone held out a hand and the fleet slowed to a stop outside of cannon range just in case. Luffy had his arms crossed over his chest, thinking, and the rest looked to him for direction with a range of trust.

"Are we certain that the Fleet Admiral has returned here?" Kuzan raised an eyebrow, skeptical of the report Smoker had found in Killer's office.

Smoker laughed, the sound gravelly and humorless. "Don't doubt it fer a fuckin' second. He's set th'stage he wants."

Don understood in a flash of sick revelation. "He wants it to end where it started. He wants whatever side loses to be sacrificed on the altar of the cause for this war."

Because he could see them—the black, pulsing threads of grief, of pain, the chains that wrapped building and execution block, and he swallowed hard.

"He CAN'T end it anywhere else. He's... he's tethered here."

The echo of footsteps broke the tense silence as the rebellion watched and waited, a sign of life that all had been looking for on the desolate docks. One set of feet was followed by another and then another and finally a fourth. Their stride was heavy, determined but weighed down, and off pitch to one another, betraying the differences in their ages. No one spoke, and as they grew closer, ascending from the back of the execution platform, the collective breath was drawn and held in anticipation. One by one the shadowed men stepped into the light, all with collars just like Mihawk. Three wore cloaks and the last a vice-admiral's jacket. Two were younger, two were older. All four showed signs of tension and regret in the way they held themselves.

Then all at once, the man furthest to the left, cried out across the gap, his black haori flying behind him. "LUFFY!!!"

Beside him, the silver-haired master of Haki broke character too. "GO BACK, BOY!!! DON'T DO THIS!!"

"SHANKS! RAYLEIGH!" Only Zoro's hand on his shoulder kept the rubber man from launching himself forward. "JIJI!!! TOUSAN!!"

Don's hands clenched on the railing as he tried to breathe. Those collars! Of course the Fleet Admiral would take them, use them. The irony of it all. Of course.

And the lines that led from them back to the remote detonator: blinking the bright red that meant 'armed'. Even if he snipped them they would go off. That's what they were supposed to do. Explode when connection was lost.

"Smoker."

The former Vice Admiral grunted.

"Will he make us fight them one by one or free-for-all?"

The former Marine spat. "One by one. It's the more painfully drawn-out, sadistic route."

"The collars won't explode if the target is disabled, only if the device is opened without the appropriate key. But this will not be easy. I doubt that they are able to forfeit without giving their all." Crocodile's gaze skittered up to the windows of the command tower above the island. "Were I our enemy I would be watching to ensure my puppets behaved as I wished them to, unlike the warden and his cohorts previously."

It was Don's turn to spit. "He is. I can see them."

He climbed the railing and filled his lungs, turning his face to the blank windows- and the passionate, if twisted man behind them, the buzzing ball of blackness he could feel hiding behind the glass.

"JUST KEEP IN MIND YOU SON OF A BITCH; YOU BREAK THE RULES AND SO WILL I!"

If their ultimate enemy heard or heeded Don's words, he gave no sign, but that was the same moment, Luffy wrenched himself out of Zoro's grip and rocketed to the base of the wall before the execution platform. His hat fell back to hang around his neck and he glared up at the four of them. Again Shanks and Rayleigh shook their heads, though all four knew that there was no way the Pirate King would back down. He never had, and he never would.

Dragon and Garp looked at each other, and though it killed them all to do this, the order had already been decided.

Garp stepped forward. "You think you're up to taking on your old Grampa, brat? Each person is only allowed to fight once," he said, carefully, as though by rote, "unless all other opponents have been defeated. So pick who you want to fight carefully."

His eyes pleaded- save himself for the Fleet Admiral.

Luffy grit his teeth, and growled, "Jiji..."

There was a shuffle around the perimeter of the harbor and on board the ships, both sides tense and on a hair trigger. A single move on either side would set them off, and even though the navy still only had a majority of nameless, powerless recruits, their numbers outclassed the pirates three to one. If anything tipped the scale, this confrontation would make the War of the Best look like child's play.


	21. Chapter 21

Everyone was tense. The four collared were waiting to see if Luffy or someone else would step in, and everyone else was watching the Pirates for betrayal.

And then some goddamn idiot, some rookie who wouldn't take the tension and pressure anymore, snapped. Don just barely dropped in time to dodge the bullet, and the Donquixotes ROARED and surged forth in fury.

They broke the rule, and now it was a free-for-all.

After one group, came the others. The Kids, the Hearts, Baroque Works, Ivankov and the Okamas, the former marines, all of them. People screamed, bones were crushed. A flight of heads, severed from their bodies, came soaring across the battlefield. Punctuations of "DEATH WINK!", "Shigan!", "Revolver Girl!", "Spar Break!", "Candle Lock!" and others accompanied waves of ice, wind, rain, and lightning from both clouds and people. "Rumble" preceded the appearance of the enormous reindeer monster. Hands sprouted out of nowhere. Craters appeared where people were cut down unseen. At some point someone had to have been in contact with Shirahoshi because suddenly there were fishmen fighting alongside the Devil Fruit users. Pillars of smoke meshed with sand flung from a distance and both covered close range fighters' movements. The scent of sulfur blanketed parts of the battle, where marines collapsed into heaps, out cold. In short, it was chaos, a battle royale between those who'd been wronged and those who were just following orders.

And Luffy....

Luffy slingshot himself to the top of the execution platform. The second his feet landed on the edge, his body bounced, "Gear. Second."

Garp and Dragon descended on him first, one from each side. A fiery dragon fist from one direction, and a plain Haki-armored one on the other, high and low—so a dodge would not slam them into each other. Shanks vaulted them to come slamming down from above and Rayleigh's speed allowed him to get behind. It was a real cluster and if one of them didn't hit him, they'd hit each other—which would be no great tragedy. Regardless of where the damage came from, when they were too damaged to keep fighting, they were too damaged to keep fighting.

Luffy waited, steam rising from his body, eyes darting from family member to family member. Haki sizzled in the air, Armament and Observation providing defense and agility. He wrapped his body around his father and his grandfather, surging under his first mentor and met his second eye-to-eye as his spine bent in half backwards. The spark of resolve lit in his eyes and a nod far too subtle to even be seen by the other three in the cluster gave him the signal to let loose.

Like the silence of an atomic bomb, the shockwave drew in before lashing out across the war; an invisible force, dropping marine soldiers, Devil Fruit users, and fishmen alike.

Those who ordinarily would have been able to withstand it stumbled and the closer they were to the epicenter, the faster they fell. Around Luffy, the four greatest men he'd ever known crashed both into each other, and into unconsciousness as the force of his Conqueror's Haki slammed into the four of them at once. On the deck of his flagship, standing as far away from everything as she could get and still manipulate her Sables, Crocodile had to dig her hand into the wood of the deck railing to avoid tumbling overboard. The seastone, removed before they left Impel Down, had clearly provided a much needed edge, sharpening not just their Devil Fruit abilities, but also increasing the sheer force of their will. Which, when backed by the power of the D, made Luffy truly something to be reckoned with.

Even Don found himself stumbling, his strings faltering and twisting into a jumbled mess until he managed to straighten them with a snap of his wrist and a harsh tug. But one finger had a string leading to his secret weapon, carefully tucked between his feathers for easy reach, and he carefully kept that one still. He was going to need it. He just knew it.

In the crowd, there was a howling war cry, answered by a sharp series of barks as a rage-powered, gore-covered figure on the very edges where Luffy's Haki barely reached was corralled away from the fallen Marines by the one person that would never be hit even in a blind rage.

Don turned his face upward, jaw set, eyes squinting as he waited for that window to open and the watcher still behind it to emerge.

Rayleigh, the last to fall, trembled with the effort to stay away under his student's will, and smiled, "Knew... you could... do it... boy... don't... underestimate... your... opponent..."

He slipped under then, and Luffy caught him, easing the older man to the planking next to the others. He touched each one, bent down so that his knees were next to his ears, and his hat back on his head, shadowing his face again. Then he turned, fury burning with the same resolve that had given him access to the level of Haki he'd just released. He stood and began to make his way down the stairs in the back, into the fortress itself.

The doors opened ahead of him, carelessly crashing wide. Don was panting—he wasn't unaffected, but...

He looked to Crocodile. His heart. His beloved. The carrier of his little Magpie.

He jumped up to her, wobbling on the railing, and stole a kiss, short, barely a peck, before tumbling back down and racing after the Strawhat Captain. This was why he'd made her promise. Because when Doflamingo had someone to protect, he didn't do it in half-measures.

Before he could actually reach the execution platform, a sword and a shoe met sole to blade in his path.

"The fuck you think you're going, Mingo?" Cigarette smoke blew into his face and an echoing growl reached his ears from the opposite side.

He growled right back. "After your Captain. I have a score of my own to settle."

Sanji and Zoro glared at him, deep jade and ocean blue matching for intensity in the dip of their eyebrows. It was the blond who spoke though, his temper more in check, and really, he had more right.

"And who will take care of Marguerite if you die? Aly can't do it on his own."

Don’s eyebrow rose and his glasses gleamed. "Are you implying I couldn't count on you two?"

His secret burned in his pocket, the feathers around it turning dry and brittle—not that anyone but himself knew.

"No." Zoro's voice was gruff, deepened by battle lust, "They need you and you know it. Luffy's our captain. If anyone's to back him up, we will. _That's_ what you should be counting on. Just as he's counting on you and the other captains under him to maintain order here. The last thing he needs is a bunch of asshole marines deciding that they can try to flank him. Do your part and don't try to be a loose cannon. We've got enough of those as it is."

Growling irritably, the puppeteer retreated, but not without a couple of angry, poisonous looks as he skimmed a few feet above the water and touched down next to Croc again—wary of her wrath for what he'd been about to do.

The cook and the swordsman nodded and turned, following their captain into the fortress.

"No." Luffy shook his head, glaring and refusing to accept what he'd just been told.

The whale fishman standing before him explained why the underwater kingdom had joined in on the fight, his collar thick and heavy around his neck, pressing on the uppermost set of his gills. His mouth was drawn in a hard line, and sorrow filled his eyes, deep shadows under them and new lines around the edges. His ponytail was drawn back with new lines of white, and his knuckles were worn, swollen from a lifetime of fighting. The dust was settling around them, and it was clear while the other two Strawhats were dealing with Doflamingo, their captain had been fighting with his blood brother. But now, they stood off, face to face, crumbled walls and stone all around them.

"NO!" The Pirate King shouted again, launching himself at Jinbei.

"Listen to reason, Luffy-kun!" The sharkman retaliated catching the rubber fists in steel-like webbed fingers. "You can't go forward."

Zoro went ahead of Sanji, swords still drawn, and as he came into the room he felt his heart lurch. Luffy was being forced to fight Jinbei now? His missing brother?

The floor beneath them buckled, a shockwave of the power caught between them, and Jinbei shook his head, near to tears. "I cannot let you go forward! You know why!!"

Luffy roared his frustration about it, then bounced back to land in front of his other Nakama, one fist on the ground, the other drawn back. He actually had bruises on his knuckles where the fishman had been holding him.

"I HAVE TO!"

Zoro looked at Sanji, then back at the Fishman. "Jinbei. Fight us."

"Zoro-san, Sanji-san." The whale shark's physical apology was even more evident as his attention slipped to them. "It is not a matter of fighting!" The Pirate King tried to take that second to Shave past him but as nimble on his feet as ever, the fishman caught him about his waist, "Luffy-kun!"

One more look between the swordsman and his lover—this one nervous. "Why? Why, Jinbei? What's beyond you that Luffy can't pass?"

At that point Luffy's ability to keep silent broke, and he thrashed, losing form and focus the way only one thing could make him, screaming, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE!!!"

The cook and swordsman both froze, their heads whipping around to look past Jinbei, at what their Captain saw.

The fishman let him go, knowing the rubberman would simply stretch himself up the stairs anyway, and standing at the top was a pair of entirely too familiar, unlaced, boots. Luffy fell to the floor, his entire composure shaken. It couldn't be! It just couldn't be! He was dead! He'd died years ago, in the Pirate King's arms. Buried on a remote island, far away from any other in the entire grand line. Only three people had eternal poses to it, and a ring of reverse magnets kept ordinary poses from working. It just wasn't possible, and yet...

The form at the top of the stairs clomped its way down, revealing inch by torturing inch of pasty skin once browned and golden. Stitches ringed his knee disappearing into the cuff of his shorts. His belt was chewed and the buckle tarnished. A grey cast had settled under the tan, and more stitches ringed a plug of flesh that was in no way originally a part of the fire-bending son of Roger. The glass on his log pose was broken, and the tattoo on his bicep was entirely crossed out. The lopsided smile was his, but a cross of yet more stitches betrayed the truth even before he spoke.

"You know me, but do I know you?"

There was a shattering sound; Sanji and Zoro both knew it was Luffy's heart and theirs broke along with him. Sanji had to turn away, memories of Thriller Bark overwhelming him, but Zoro forced himself to keep watching, throat bobbing. How? HOW had they...?

Jinbei turned away, folding himself into a seated position. He'd tried to warn them. Even told Luffy that the Fleet Admiral had Moria under his control. He couldn't outright say exactly what was waiting, but he'd done the best he could. And the broken man who dared to call a fishman 'brother' was the only thing the former shichibukai was willing to risk his life for. Still, it hadn't been enough. He could hear the confused shuffling of the zombie Portgas had become, but he couldn't watch what was about to happen. He just couldn't.

Luffy stumbled forward, his hand reaching, "Ace."

He sounded lost, like the years of healing he'd spent getting stronger and conquering the Grand Line had meant nothing.

"Ace..."

He was that fifteen year old boy again, clutching the corpse of his dead brother and not wanting to believe he was gone.

"AAACE!?"

The blankly cheerful expression remained, even as the zombie took a step back. "That's my name, stranger. Don't know what I did to upset ya so bad, but m'awful sorry for it. Now... why don't you stay backed up for me, ne? I don't make a habit of letting people who just might wish me harm touch me."

He tipped his hat upward with his forefinger, still smiling, but with the slight edge that meant if the encroaching man he didn't know continued to come forward, he WOULD get burned.

It was like he was a broken record, the rubber man stumbled forward. He blinked away tears, because Ace shouldn't see him cry, and his fists clenched at his sides. He had to touch him, know that he wasn't dreaming, that this wasn't some sick, twisted nightmare designed to make him second guess himself. He'd come too far, and fought too hard for that.

"Ace, you're my brother! You know me!"

That lopsided smile was familiar; so were the black eyes that were utterly devoid of life. "Sorry, but I'm afraid I don't. I have no brothers."

"No..." He was breaking further, tears starting to actually escape his lashes, "We... we drank... you... promised... you can't..."

"Sorry," the zombie said again, wearing that same old grin. "I kinda wish I was the brother you think I am. But I'd remember if I had any brothers, and I don't recall any."

"LUFFY! THAT'S NOT ACE!"

Zoro's shout from the edge of the broken room cut through the sorrow, and echoed, as he always had, grounding his captain. Despair became fury, and the tears in his lashes reflected the anger in his soul. He growled, pulling back, fist armed with Haki and released, flying at the imposter who wore his brother's face with a roar of pain. The trouble was as he got closer to the grin he'd known all of his life, he shook, the armament dissolving and his resolve unsteady in his power.

The zombie went up in flames, instinctively dodging the attack, the pale, barely-there flames like a will-o-the-wisp that reformed only a few feet over—

But when he reformed, there was something... _wrong_.

The stitched over section in his chest—

It was _burning_.

Along with the swapped in parts on his face, on his legs, all of it, going up in flames like dry kindling, leaving the zombie unsteady as he tried to put it out, knowing, knowing in the very bottom of his being where a spark rested, that this _was not right._ He was flame incarnate! He did not BURN!

Still though, Luffy missed, faltered at the last moment because he couldn't hit his brother. Even if he knew that this imposter was a construct, and wore his brother's face like a mask, he just couldn't! His fist collided with the wall, and the flames embraced him as he followed it, tackling the pseudo-firestarter to the ground with a grunt. He howled with pain where his skin blistered, and instinctively he jumped back to put distance between them. He glared like a wounded dog, clutching his fist and snippets of his sensei's lessons echoed between his ears. 'Never underestimate an opponent.' Baring his teeth, he launched himself again, aiming for that place in the center that wouldn't burn.

Ace, trying desperately to quell the flames he felt that would not go out, trying to fix what was wrong, this time he failed to dodge, dazed from being tackled to the floor. He didn't feel it (which seemed very odd to him, didn't that usually hurt?) but his head did spin from the hard knock it had taken.

That ragged circle in the center of his chest tore open, nothing but a section of skin as thin as tissue paper put there to cover the unsightly hole, stretched drum-tight. Both of them pulled apart at the blow and Luffy's fist went all the way through with no resistance, bringing their faces closer together as the zombie cried out in shock. Ace couldn't help but think, staring down into the tearful face so, so very close... so oddly familiar... that this felt rather like it had happened before, somehow.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!" Luffy screamed, eyes wide and nausea gripping a hold of his core.

His arm snapped back and he stumbled, sick and disoriented. Behind him he heard the sounds of reaction from both of his crewmembers, and the wince of pain from Jinbei came through loud and clear in his observation Haki. Still, it only took a moment before he regained his footing and growled, snarling and sending another hit towards the man pretending to be his brother. In a way, the hole helped. It reminded him that this wasn't Ace, this was a zombie, constructed from Ace's corpse and infected with a shadow being controlled by a Devil Fruit user who was probably being just as victimized as the rest of them. That thought gave him more fuel for his determination. Not only had the Fleet Admiral abused and persecuted the living fruit users, it was obvious now that he had begun to exploit the dead as well. Something Luffy just could not stand for.

He was blasted by flame. A flame that did NOT burn him. A familiar flame. And in dead eyes, a spark leapt.

"I don't know you. But you know me, don't you?" The zombie’s voice was soft, and his gaze dropped to his shadow, where flames leapt and danced, covering the hole. "And I... am not alive. I'm not supposed to be here."

He held still, and though the flames went higher, spurred by his shadow, he was still standing and smiling when Luffy's punch connected.

The Pirate King stood over him as he went down, shoulders heaving and his anger barely in check only because he'd apparently begun to get through to the zombie.

"No. You died. You're..." he choked, "You're supposed to be dead." The tears were back, and if it were any other person waiting with him, he'd have expected them to try and console him. He was grateful that the three who were there did not. "I'll get the ones who did this, Ace. I swear, they'll pay for this and everything they've done."

Ace’s face twisted as he felt the broken body begin to give up, his connection to it sever.

"I’m sure... I'm sure you will... I was important to you... your brother, I guess..." He grasped for the names he needed. It wasn't like he hadn't bragged enough. "Tell Moria... that I'm sorry... they'll be mad at him for... for letting me go... and... Pig-back… he looked like... he was hav-having... fun..."

His head tipped back as he lost more of the control over this shell.

"Bu... bul... bullet... sock... him... ffffer... me... y-y-herrrre?"

The Pirate King sank to his knees, flashbacks of the first time this happened draining him of the restrained anger for the moment. He gathered Ace's head to his shoulder, just like before, though this time, he was practically sitting in his brother's lap. He hugged him close in spite of the grave-like undertones to his scent and the cold—far too cold—temperature of his skin. He didn't wail this time, but he did cry, silent weeping for the brother he'd lost and for the tortured soul who'd been forced to die twice. He didn't have to say that he would, he knew Ace knew, even if this Ace didn't know him.

Luffy felt it, the moment the shadow disconnected entirely, because the body beneath him began to dissolve. Tiny particles flitted up like so much ash from his feet. Still the rubber man held on, tightening his hug as the shoulders disappeared, the tattoo lifting off in black flecks, and finally the face, smiling this time as he had that time, leaving Luffy's arms empty and wanting for the red-hot fire that was the one person he'd looked up to from the moment he met him. A stray breeze blew the last wisps out into the sunshine, like he was reaching to join the eternal flame of the daystar itself, and his hat, the real thing also plundered from his grave, brushed against Luffy's knees in silent apology for not being able to stay.


	22. Chapter 22

"Luffy..."

Zoro's voice broke the heavy silence with the reminder that the fight was far from over. To the side Sanji lit his cigarette, his hair hiding his expression, and Jinbei held his hands on his knees, eyes closed. The Strawhat captain got to his feet, head down, face shadowed, but everyone in the room could feel his anger pressing at the edges of their minds. The Haki barely contained for the way it roiled and burned. The wind of it whipped at their clothing, tossing away the peaceful death that had been settled over the room like a mantle. The time of rest was over. And there was one target in the Pirate King's sights as he marched up the stairs.

"COBY!"

The Fleet Admiral knew better than to stay seated behind his desk. He'd been there, at War of the Best, watched as the pirate forces tore through the marines like they were made of paper, seen how the greatest Fleet Admiral of all time, Sengoku, had been beaten back with nothing more than a key of wax and the Will of the D. That had been why he'd tried to harness it. Turn the two against each other. He knew now what a fatal mistake that had been. A slow, breathy, and exhausted laugh reached his ears as the pressure of the incoming Haki filled the room.

"Kishishishi..."

"Quiet you!" The scowling, pink-haired man spat. "Have you forgotten?"

"Never... Fleet Admiral." The sound of chains, heavy and thick, dragged across the floor from the shadows behind him, and the truly massive person being held down by them could only just reach the edge of the seastone cage. "How could I? You've seen... fit to... remind me... at every... turn..."

No longer the proud, egocentric master of Thriller Bark, the shadow user was a wilted shade of his former self. Arms bound in iron and atrophied to the point of being unable to lift them. Heavy slave collar about a neck that once again had a chin from the weight he'd lost. His horns cut down to nubbins and rounded. It was a wonder Gekko Moriah could stay awake, let alone taunt his captor. But he could feel what was coming too, and it brought a smile, reminiscent and vague, to his face.

"You'll... lose..." He wheezed.

"QUIET I SAID!" Coby raged, and dared spin to glare at his prisoner. "Another word and he dies!"

The former shichibukai kept smiling but said nothing more, merely laughing his signature laugh under his breath.

The door blasted open before Luffy ever had to touch it and his voice was a dark, raging snarl. "COBY!!"

"I promised you we would meet again as enemies, Luffy!" The Fleet Admiral returned, drawing his own Haki together.

Luffy's Haki slammed him. "Not like this! NOT LIKE WHAT YOU DID!"

"What I did?!" He coughed, and slid back against his desk with a growl. "WHAT ABOUT WHAT YOU DID!"

The other slammed his fist down on the desk. "I never did anything to you! You were my friend!"

"YOU ATTACKED SAKAZUKI!"

Coby raged and drove his knee into the rubber man's groin. Though it didn't do any real damage, exactly, it DID hurt, and the brunet howled as his legs twisted and slammed him in the gut.

"HE WAS KILLING MY BROTHER! OF COURSE I DID!"

Only quick thinking brought his Armament around before that fist could do serious damage. Still the marine curled around it and coughed, "YOU THREW HIM OVERBOARD!!"

He used the motion to cover pulling a pistol from his belt and fired off several shots. None of them were seastone, so he knew it wouldn't actually hurt the fruit user, but the last one in the clip. That one he was saving and needed to waste the others first. He needed to do something to get his former friend in close, so he could plant it somewhere the rubber man wouldn't be able to fling it back.

The Pirate King expanded, not only bouncing the bullets back but his ballooning rubber bulk hitting the massive desk to send it flying and crash into—partly through—the wall. "SO WHAT?! I WASN'T GONNA LET HIM JUST KILL ME! HE WOULD HAVE THROWN ME IF HE COULD'VE GOT A GRIP AND HE _DID_ KILL MY BROTHER!!"

Coby dodged, rolling around the debris to pop back up onto his feet and fire off two more shots, these had seastone tips though the rest would bounce back. "SO WHAT?! THE ENTIRE SHIP WAS FULL OF YOU FRUIT USERS! THAT'S WHAT!! AND! WE! COULDN'T! JUST! LET! HIM! DIE!!"

Luffy could feel the cold of the seastone before it hit, but wasn't fast enough to deflate to dodge and hissed angrily as they penetrated his arm when he blocked. "So? You're not a fruit user, you can swim! Why would that matter?!"

"I was too far away." The lack of retaliation had the Fleet Admiral on guard, stepping to the side, pistol at the ready and hand on his sword hilt as well. "The only person who could save him wasn't strong enough. He dragged him down! HE DIED BECAUSE OF YOU!"

There were tears on his face, but he did nothing to wipe them away, too angry to bother with them.

Feeling his way to the crux of the matter, Luffy was nevertheless truly confused. Still angry, but confused. He threw his fist. It ricocheted off the floor, aiming to knock that pistol away before he got one of those someplace more dangerous like his heart.

"Who? Who went down with Sakazuki?"

"NO! NO I WON'T SAY HIS NAME! IT WASN'T FAIR!!!" Coby let the pistol drop, the fight was draining from him, his Haki was failing, he couldn't do it. He wasn't even paying attention to where Luffy's attack was going as it bounced from floor to wall and towards him, "He... he'd only just... we hadn't even... WHY!?!? HE DIDN'T DESERVE IT!" He fell to his knees just as the rubber fist came into alignment with his temple, "Helmeppo..."

The last word was a whisper, and then flesh connected with flesh and the Fleet Admiral was flung like so much trash, his body a tail on the cannonball of his head. Blood flew from his nose and mouth as he was knocked out through the hole in the wall, sailing over the battlefield to crash and tumble across the deck of the flagship where Don and Croc were arguing about how certain bird brains had promised not to take risks. Encumbered by her bulk Croc barely got out of the way in time, and her eyes shot to the hole in the wall of the command tower for a heartbeat before snapping to the collapsed form of the Fleet Admiral, assessing the situation.

Don didn't have to think longer than a second. He had his most dangerous enemy in front of him, and he had his secret weapon in his hand before anyone could think to do more than look up at Luffy. He pinched the dark gray thread of Age and yanked it, sending the spindle spinning and flying over Coby as he reached out with his other hand and drew his fingers down the thread, it rippled into a weave under his fingers to catch the Fleet Admiral in a net that the moment it touched him, started to age him. Visibly and drastically. Lines and wrinkles appeared, arthritis twisted joints out of alignment, skin went papery and thin even as it sagged. Don didn't listen to the cries of shock and horror as he wove, just took both free ends to pull them tight and anchor them to the boy's Life thread.

It was the best way he could think of to neutralize any threat without outright resorting to death because he knew flat out murder wasn't Luffy's style. There was nothing quite like Time to render a once-terrifying power helpless.

Especially fifty, sixty years of it all at once.

"DON WAIT!" Time flew from Croc's fingers, grasping and harnessing what her beloved should not be wielding no matter what the circumstances.

Something internal told her that there would be far reaching consequences to what Doflamingo was doing, and their entire future depended on those consequences not happening. Her sands surrounded them without thought, closing the three of them off from the rest of the war with blinding, ripping, fiberglass-like grains that swirled at the level of a sandstorm. She stepped forward, hand outstretched to stop the flow of Time. Immediately the effect was obvious, health returning to the young man at her feet.

"Look harder at his Fate. You said before that he was chained to this place. Aging him will do nothing to end his hatred, and even venerable he will be a threat to the new era when Mugiwara lets him go."

The puppeteer’s voice was harsh. "Eighty-year-old Marines, even Fleet Admirals, don't live long. Then it won't matter what or where he's chained to."

His free hand still had a grip on the pink-haired man's Life, and it held the boy immobile. Most people were left pretty confused and helpless when someone literally had a hold of their soul. Or part of it anyway.

But he handed over his net to his beloved anyway.

"And death is too kind." Her eyes were hard as she dispelled it. "Draw out the bonds that tie him here. He needs to be cleansed and forced to live with the memories of what he's done, hunted from every port by those he's wronged. Eventually he will die, but he will walk on glass, barefoot and toothless, until that happens."

Don rumbled a deep, angry snarl more suited to his mate than himself, but as he almost always did when Crocodile asked... he obeyed. Using the Life thread, he called up the rest and spread them out like gleaming lines of a loose weave. Traced each. Finally came to the source, a thick muddy colored one that glowed bright red under his fingers and formed the first, and thickest, chain from which all other chains spawned.

"This. This is the source of all his other bonds to this building." And for a moment, he froze, eyes slipping out of focus as his back went ramrod straight.

He hadn't known he could _see_ what was in a thread like he'd lived it.

Below them Coby whimpered. He didn't want to see what he was seeing. The War of the Best flashed before his eyes unbidden, the death, the horror, nearly being struck down by his superior only to be saved by the Yonko who'd given Luffy his hat. Then the hospital afterwards, and the training and promotions where he worked, hand in hand with the partner who'd been his other half from the first day he joined the navy. Captain, Commodore, Rear Admiral, Vice Admiral... all the way up to Admiral. They worked as a pair. While Luffy was conquering the Grand Line, Coby and Helmeppo were conquering the navy. When Borsalino retired, for the first time in history, the Fleet Admiral promoted two people into his position. Sakazuki's reasoning had been that because neither one of them were Devil Fruit users they'd need each other to equalize their power against the others. He had been wrong of course, but the lavaman hadn't lived to see that.

The night before the accident, Helmeppo had come to him, cloaked in shadows and with something on his mind. They were to take down Moriah, as he had hijacked the Pacifista Headquarters, and Sakazuki wanted to leave nothing to chance. Come dawn, they were anticipating a long battle. Thus, the taller of the two new admirals wanted to clear the air before the possibility that something could happen. He fell to his knees on the bed, tears pouring down his face.

"I can't do this anymore! Coby! I can't! I can't watch you go up against him like this!"

Confused, his fellow admiral patted his back awkwardly. "Like what? I'm in top form. We can do it!"

Snot and tears and misery had flavored the kiss Helmeppo had surprised him with, and knocked him back onto the bed.

After that there had been no time for anything, as Moriah had sent his zombies and the PX units to attack the fleet, and they had been drawn into battle before they were ready. Dawn found Coby on the island and the Thousand Sunny engaged with the naval flagship. Moriah was taken down just as the Lion Canon fired, sending the clashing crews flying. Sakazuki had flown off the side between the ship and the island, and Luffy had gone slingshotting back towards the Sunny. Coby had only a moment to realize that Zoro had caught Luffy and Helmeppo, being the only non-Devil Fruit user on the flagship, had dived into the water after the admiral. The Strawhats had retreated, thanks to a Coup de Burst, but Coby's eyes were locked on the shore, searching, hoping, praying that the two would re-appear.

Minutes ticked by, and with every breath more people gave up. The criminals were packed up, zombies disintegrated, and the Pacifista documentation destroyed. But Coby kept standing there, waiting. He had to come back. He couldn't be gone! He searched and searched with his Haki, even though he knew he wouldn't find anything. He vaguely remembered someone helping him onto the ship where just a few hours before his partner had confessed to loving him, but the next real memory he had was of Marineford, and slamming Moriah against a seastone wall over and over and over as rage consumed him. That had been when the idea sprouted in his mind that if it hadn't been for Devil Fruits, he never would have had to watch his lover die before even getting the chance to truly love him.

Croc stumbled under the weight of the Fleet Admiral's grief. He'd been promoted, actually killing one of the other admirals to get it, and from there had begun the systematic imprisonment of every Devil Fruit user on the planet.

The aspect of Time choked, emotion that was not entirely hers clenching her vocal cords, "He kept... he kept Moriah as a pet... played with him, tortured him... held the idea that... that _Kuma?!"_ She shook her head confused, "Kuma. He convinced Moriah to control Portgas with the idea that he wouldn't kill Kuma."

Don dropped the thread and severed the connection to them like it was a live wire, throat thick and the shared grief aching inside him with all the pain he knew he would feel if Croc ever got hurt, with the pain he'd been carrying since learning what he'd had to do to survive that terrible prison.

"Kuma, as a man, has been dead for years, but Moriah didn't know," he said, a bit shakily, swaying on his feet. His hands there burned where he had been holding the chain, the links seared into his flesh. "Grief. It drove you mad," he said to the sobbing form on the deck. "I'm… I'm sorry. For your loss."

He didn't know what else to say. It was a little hard to blindly hate him after feeling what he felt, seeing what he'd seen.

The cleansing after that was easy, Crocodile knelt next to the broken Fleet Admiral, and peeled layer after layer of hardened grief from the young man's life thread. She unwound the Time, the same as she had with the red string between herself and Don. With each new debridement of the soul-deep wounds, Coby seized and cried out, agony turning his screams into whimpers as Croc got closer and closer to the source. At the end of it, she had to drop her sand, but she held the throbbing, severed red string as gently as she could, her body trembling with the effort and sweating. Actually sweating.

"It's... done..."

Don produced a spindle—the spindle that had held the Time—and took the threads from his lover gently, winding them all around it as it turned blood red with the grief and love.

Coby lay feeling empty and alone, gasping up at a sky so impassively blue it hurt.

Luffy landed on the deck with a thump, and around them, gradually, the knowledge that the war had stopped filtered into their awareness. Marines and pirates alike watched, breath held for the verdict the Pirate King would hand down. Tension was suspended, the bloodthirsty and most betrayed hoped for death, lacking the foresight Crocodile had shown, but those closest to Luffy, who knew him best, prayed that he would not be consumed by the same grief. For all of his crimes, Coby was a broken man, tortured more by his own mind than any other force in the world, and the ones who loved the rubber man most prayed for pity.

Don held up the spindle. "This... poisoned him. He did terrible things. I'm not arguing he didn't. But this is what drove him. And... it consumed him."

Coby didn't bother to get up, but he cast his eyes over to Luffy, mouth sagged in a frown. "I'm... I'm so sorry, Luffy. I know… it wasn't... Just... kill me fast."

He didn't want to say the name out loud; that would only evoke old hurts.

For a long time the rubber man didn't say anything, he just made his way up to the crumpled form of his friend, hat down, face in shadow, and stood there. Then his arm stretched out, grabbed the spindle with his fist and threw it as hard as he could out into the sea. His fingertips, where they touched the thread, blackened and wrinkled; hundreds of years of wear and age curing the rubber in an instant. Then he looked down, the mess of tears and snot and drool turning his face into a waterfall. He hauled Coby up with both hands and held him close, squeezing him with all of his strength in the kind of hug reserved only for Nakama.

Doflamingo's knees finally gave out as he let out a long sigh, Coby breaking down entirely, bawling into the Pirate King's shoulder and hanging onto him like he was never going to let go, crying too hard and too loud to even protest, to even ask why he was being forced to keep living without the light of his life, how Luffy could ever stand to let him still breathe after imprisoning and torturing Moriah, after resurrecting his dead brother's shadow and his corpse and making him _fight_ him.

He could do nothing but cling to him like a drowning man to a life preserver and wail his pain and despair.

But now he had someone to help him with it so it would never consume him again. He at least had that.


	23. Chapter 23

"Mugiwara, there are still the world nobles to deal with." Crocodile leaned as casually as she could against the railing of the ship, her hand smoothing the borrowed shirt.

The Strawhat captain nodded, still holding his friend, "Mah, Sanji."

At that moment, the cook was making his way down the battlefield. There was an air about him, something tense, and restrained. His hair hid his face, and he smoked slowly. The burn of fire rumbled under his skin, and instead of using the gangplank, he muttered a soft, "Sky Walk," to land next to his captain.

"Duval is ready, we leave as soon as Mingo catches his breath."

"OI!" Came a shout from below, "Just what are you pirates planning on doing?!"

"Taking out the root of the problem!" Another voice called back.

"You can't just take on Mariejois!"

"The HELL we can't! They approved of this shit!"

"And they're the ones who commissioned the collars!!"

"But you can't just storm their stronghold like you did here! It's hundreds of miles up from the coast! Only the Tenryuubito can get back and forth from there!!"

Chaos broke out from both sides of the walkway, marines and pirates alike calling out to each other, accusing and defending until the entire battlefield was nothing but a massive thunderous noise. Voices meshing together about what they could and couldn't do, and how it wasn't the marines' place to dictate that, but pirates couldn't be trusted to handle the matter delicately. And so on and so on.

And then one very quiet voice said one single word, and every voice went silent as a massive blue dome encompassed the entirety of the base and all three ships.

Don blinked at his son, who was helping him back to his feet. "I didn't know your radius had extended so far," he said, perhaps a bit muzzily.

"I could encompass two and a half warships with seastone on," Law informed him briskly. "This base is easily within my range without it."

Duval's fish touched down on the deck with an inelegant THUMP and he jumped down. "Alright, we're ready to ship out when you are. I've got six riders with me and each of us can take one passenger safely. Who can we get past the gate?"

"Me," Don said immediately. "The Donquixotes belong there; they know me on sight."

"Alright, and who else?"

Don cast his eyes over. "Most blonds are pretty rare. Anyone with blond hair they'll assume is related if they're young enough... Sanji. You." He swiveled his head and spied one other blond. "Bellamy! Get up here; we need you on this too!"

Bellamy moved from where he'd been standing and hopped down, running up to the young master. He was more than happy to finally be of use. "Got it."

"Now wait just a minute!" The White Hunter growled, though he couldn't come any closer than he already was. "You pirates have been in charge this whole time, but this isn't just about the corruption in the marines anymore! You're talking about taking down the entire government, do you honestly expect us to just sit on the sidelines while you good-for-nothings have your way with the world capital!?"

"Hina agrees!" The pink haired woman next to him glared. "Hina thinks that this plan is faulty, and should be turned over to the proper authorities!"

Don gave a deadpan look at the still-sobbing mess that was Coby.

"The 'proper authorities'," he said carefully, because these were his allies and sort of friends so he resisted the urge to sneer, "have proven too corruptible in the past and-"

"They control the Fleet," Coby said feebly, making the tall blond's attention rivet on him.

"What?"

"The Tenryuubito. They control the Fleet. No matter who the Admiral is, they find something to use to control them so they can do what they like unmolested and remain like gods on their throne in the 'holy land'." He spat the two final words like an acid.

"All the more reason for our plan to go through." Sanji did sneer. His entire tone dripped with contempt.

"Watch it, brat!" Smoker growled again.

Luffy stepped forward, and put a hand on his cook's shoulder, though he kept his other arm wrapped around Coby several times. If that was to keep him from moving or to support him, it wasn't clear, but Sanji acquiesced to his captain, who scrunched up his mouth in thought.

"Hmmmmmmmm."

Don looked from Smoker to Hina, then back to Duval, then started to smile.

It was not a nice smile.

"Well then, why don't you two come along? Just to make sure we're not going on a 'slaughter fest' as I know you're rightfully afraid I'm going to do, and you can capture those who don't try to kill us- because I will not stand idly by if they attempt it- and bring them to justice in your own way."

Duval frowned. "They're not blond. How could you get them past the gate?"

Doflamingo's smile got more unpleasant. "Oh that's easy. Put a couple fake collars on 'em and call 'em my harem."

"Ah. Yosh!" Luffy threw his fist into the air. "Follow Mango!"

Sanji frowned at him, "You didn't even think about it did you?"

The rubber man just grinned more, and Smoker glared.

"Now just wait a minu—"

"Hina approves of this plan. Yes."

"What?!"

The other former marine scowled as if to question whether her comrade was questioning her, and Smoker groaned.

"Fine! But we'll need more than just you three to capture them all."

Cavendish had sat quiet long enough. "Alright. I'll volunteer." He made his way up to the former marine. "If it will end all of this bickering."

Don took a good, long look at him and nodded. "You'll pass for a noble easily. Curly flowing blond locks and all, the right haughty attitude."

"Heh, sure you don't mean princess, Papa?" Bellamy chuckled and gave one of his signature grins.

"What did you say, Brat?" Cavendish narrowed his eyes at the larger smirking blond and a small tick mark appeared on his forehead. He placed his hand on his sword daring the other to open his mouth again.

"Sorry, m'lady, can't hear you over the sound of your own ego." Damn, the hyena knew a thing or two about egos but this was just over the top. At the sign of hostility he tensed his legs in preparation to spring out of the way.

"How dare you!" The pirate prince drew his sword. Of course he wouldn't waste his true ability on someone as weak as this fool... He pointed the tip at him menacingly. "You're just asking to be cut down."

"So's that outfit." Bellamy let his tongue slip out manically.

Cavendish wasn't known to be even tempered and he was making that quite clear. He stamped his foot childishly and glared at the blond. "You asked for it!"

His sword sliced through the air.

The uppity wish-he-was-an-Okama wasn't all show it seemed and it was a close call before the spring-spring man managed to jump back, causing a crater in the ground to upset any footing. "That hair is 'asking for it' right up the ass."

"I NEVER—" Cavendish watched the man spring up from the ground and cursed. "Damn you..." He grit his teeth, and turned, slashing his sword again."What’s the problem? Too afraid to fight?"

"You never? Oh come on 'honey' you're not that bad looking. Let me give a some numbers, we'll fix ya right up~" Bellamy didn't care enough to answer the comments meant to enrage him. He knew a taunt when he heard one.

With a graceful leap, the pirate prince jabbed at him again, “Shut up, you swine!"

"Make me, sweetheart." Watching as the blade swung he waited until the right moment to catch the broad side and punch it, causing the swordsman to over swing and leaving himself open.

But instead of taking his shot he used a regular kick to swing the man away. The Young Master needed the Okama-in-denial able bodied.

Cavendish was not going to be taken out by this savage! Especially when people were there watching...

He grabbed at the leg that landed against his side in an attempt to push him away and instead used it to pull himself forward pressing the blunt end of the sword against the springing mans throat.

"With pleasure!"

Don, where he had been giggling at the railing as he watched the two fight, flicked out his fingers and Cavendish came crashing down while Bellamy found himself forcefully dragged backwards, away from him. Don let the princely boy struggle within his net for a few minutes, only tangling it tighter, until he settled down.

"Now, children. This is not the time to be flirting. You'll want to save that energy for our mission in Mariejois, ne?"

Luffy laughed, still hugging Coby, so that his voice rang in the former admiral's ear, and Franky extended a gangplank for the rest of the crew. None of them made any comment about Don’s insinuation, though Law smirked when he passed his younger brother. Then Smoker grumbled again, and gave in.

It seemed that with Hina supporting the Strawhats, well really Don's, plan, the marines were satisfied with it. Especially as Kuzan, Borsalino, and Issho said nothing to counter the idea. The general consensus among the three former admirals was summed up by the ice man.

“I’m retired.”

So, with the spat between the two blonds solved, Smoker and his long-time friend joined the rest to set sail for Mariejois.

In a very short time, there were flames eating up at least one, maybe two mansions in the distance. People were running around, screaming and shouting, and Don really did feel bad for the regular servants and especially the slaves. But a good blast of Haki and the touch of his Master Key and he'd done what he could for them.

"You can't do this to us!"

"You won't get away with this!"

Don looked between the two and _laughed_. "And two decrepit family patriarchs are going to stop me? Me, the young master of the Donquixotes—oh, pardon me, I forgot. Me, _the head of the Donquixote Family_. Devil Fruit User, Empire Builder, King of Dressrosa and the Wild Card of the Underworld? And you think I can't do whatever I like to a pair of pompous," he kicked the fatter one in the stomach just to watch him choke and vomit, "fat, disgusting, morally bankrupt, utterly worthless piles of shit like you?"

In the background, Duval and his Riders were making gleeful chaos, whooping and hollering and generally enjoying themselves the way they hadn't since Sanji had fixed his face and he'd reformed out of life-debt in order to serve him. Many of the slaves recognized them; their terror was delicious, and the fact that they were so memorable more so. Their panicked fleeing just added to the confusion that kept anyone from mounting serious defenses against their onslaught.

Bellamy leapt atop the pathetic guards that had tried to take him from behind and crushed them with one stomp using his ability. "HAH! See that, Cavenbitch?! Five in one!"

The swordsman elegantly leapt over the pile of guards he already took out and scoffed at the hyena. He ran past him not too concerned with fighting the other blond at the moment."A measly five to my eight, Bel-lame-y."

He wouldn't be shown up by him.

"If you two are... quite! Finished!" Sanji flew between them on a handstand swiping the body of one guard through a solid ten others with a single kick that led into a flip that brought him back up to his feet in time to exhale the cloud of smoke from his cigarette into their faces. "We've a job to do here, and pissing contests isn't part of it."

To the other side, Smoker grunted and ducked, the wave of Hina's Black Cage sliding through and around the group of combined slavers and guards who were trying to flank the pirates. No thanks extended, he saw, but said nothing, skimming along the ground with a pillar of smoke to confuse and disorient the soft pseudo-fighters.

Within the building came a scream that drew all of their attention, setting up the last of the conscious ones to run smack into Hina's trap, and a woman's voice cried out, "Please! He's just a child!!"

She coughed, blood staining her lips, and she held up her hand as if that would stop the heavenly demon from rampaging straight into her son, who had stumbled out into the middle of what had once been a meeting hall for the heads of each family. He was small, soft, and frightened, with big, round eyes, and a distinctive cleft to his chin. His hair was sunny gold and drawn back in a tiny tail at the nape of his neck. He clutched a plush toy, tears in his eyes.

"Please! Just... just take him! His father's a navy admiral! You'll get a good ransom for him! Just please don't kill him!! I swear he's of noble blood, no matter what they may have told you! PLEASE!?" She begged.

In an instant, Sanji was at the door, watching what was happening and weighing whether he needed to step in to protect the woman, who was clearly dying, her side bloody and her skin pale.

Don managed to stop himself short before he ran into woman or child. His bulk could, would, crush them both, and the sight of the panicked mother, the frightened child, squeezed something hard in the depths of his chest. It didn't help that he had that pink boy's memories floating around his head and that cleft chin, that blond hair, the eyelashes, the—

He knelt down, one arm braced on the bent knee as he brought himself to the woman's level, and his voice was gentle. Soft, or at least as soft as it could be and still be heard over the cries and screams around them.

"A navy admiral, ma'am? Would you happen to know which one?" He reached forward with one hand to fluff the boy's hair, feeling its semi-coarse texture.

Sanji held up a hand, and signaled to Duval to hold the dueling fuckwads back while their temporary leader dealt with the child.

The ex-thug got between Bellamy and Cavendish, grabbing them both by the ears like naughty children. "You two quit with the flirting and making eyes. Pinky is..." He looked over at Don, "doin' something important."

Smoker glanced over when things got quiet, but, having spent months getting to know and almost trust these pirates, he could keep his attention on the task of loading the offenders into a single cage. He gave Hina a look, and she nodded, paying them no mind.

The woman on the ground, pulled herself along, "One of the new ones. I don't remember his name, but I'm sorry to say... I called him helmet head." She coughed, trying to reach her son, and it was obvious she'd broken her leg too. Though none of the task force had touched her, that much was clear.

Don felt further disgust for the filth they were exterminating here because he knew, with a terrible and cruel certainty, that her masters had done this to her, and they'd done it for their own amusement. They'd done it as a lesson to her boy.

"I know the one," was what he said, soothingly, and he laid a hand on her shoulder. "Stay here. Moving hurts you."

Rising, he went to the boy and picked him up—so light, so very light for a child his age, underfed? Overworked?—and returned to his mother, setting the boy right at her side.

"Madam, I'm not here to hurt you. I'm only here to clean house of corruption, cruelty, and rot. But I can promise you one thing: your boy can leave here for somewhere safe. I can take him to his father."

The little boy didn't cry, which was the most telling sign of their abuse. He merely pulled his stuffed onion-headed doll up closer to his mouth like he wanted to suck on his thumb, but he didn't do that either. All he did was watch, letting Don move and place him as he wished, whatever instinct or conscious choice had been taught out of him, or beaten. His mother on the other hand grabbed a hold of him and cried into his hair.

"Oh please! Please take him away from here! Save him! Don't let them kill him!! Oh please!" She begged.

Bellamy watched the young-no, the master from afar. It had been a while since he'd seen him so gentle. Not since he himself had been a boy in the master's care. It was good to see, even if the circumstances were less than desirable.

"We'll settle this later, Princess; let's get business taken care of first." He refused to let the master down in this.

He looked at the current surroundings and noted how the riders and all the others pretty much had things covered. He looked towards his master; he hated to interrupt but wanted to make his thoughts known.

"Master Doflamingo?" He spoke softly but loudly enough to be heard.

Don turned his head, giving him his attention. "Yes, Bellamy?"

He straightened up once he saw he had the master's attention. "My being here won't be of much use, and I want to go back to the ships to make sure no one gets it into their heads to destroy our passage off the island when the time comes. May I have your permission?"

The Lord of Fate nodded, flicking his wrist. "Go. When I leave, I want no delays. Get everything in order."

"Yes sir!" Bellamy made to jump, knowing that using his ability would make the journey quicker and avoid getting involved along the way. But he paused and looked at his master one more time. "...Please be safe."

Even a stupid piece of shit could get lucky every once in awhile, and he knew that his king was angry, and anger could either be a help or a hindrance in battle. Without sparing another moment he sprung up into the sky, angled towards the port.

Seizing the moment, Sanji flipped the butt of his cigarette off to the side, "Duval, go help him and the marines get their quarry loaded. No rough stuff."

The former slave-runner saluted. "Yes sir! C'mon, boys, you too Princess, roll out and get those sorry sacks of wasted genetics the Marines have caught into the ship brigs! MOVE!"

Cavendish tried to say something about the nickname but one of Duval’s thugs just hustled him along back towards the flying fish.

He and his crew took off as Don turned once more to the woman, stroking her hair comfortingly. "I'll keep him safe. It's a promise. Nobody's gonna hurt him. They'd have to go through me first."

She grasped his hand, crying, though her breath came short, "Thank you! Thank you!"

"Oi. Mingo." Sanji lit another cigarette.

The other held her hand and kept stroking her hair, but turned his head. "Yeah, cook?"

"Should get the brat to the ship." His eye shifted to meet Don's, blue on blue, and the message that the child shouldn't see his mother die was plain.

The woman was fading fast.

He nodded and looked back at her. "I'm gonna get your boy safe. I'll escort him personally to my ship, right now, so you know for sure he's gonna be alright. Okay, ma'am?"

She nodded as enthusiastically as she could, tears streaming down her face. Then she nosed into the boy's hair, "Be... be good... Pheplome... be good for your papa, ne?"

Only as Don lifted him into the large man's arms did the boy finally speak, and begin to cry, "Mama? MAMA!"

He turned the boy in his arms to face him. "Your mama made me promise to keep you safe," he said gently. "And I keep my promises. But your mama asked you to be good, and I'm going to ask you to be brave. Do you think you can do that, Pheplome?"

Sanji blocked the boy's path, even as Don turned away. He bent his head over the woman as she began to seize and give in to her wounds. The little boy seemed to sense it, and he screamed, trying to reach past the much, much larger man.

"MAMA!!!!"

Don held the boy closer, buried him in his feathers. Held his hands. "No, Pheplome. Your mom... she's really hurt. She can't be moved right now."

It was almost twenty minutes before the Strawhat cook re-joined the rest of them on the ship, and he was somber, smoking yet another cigarette quietly. He didn't need to explain the dirt on his shoes, or the cuffs of his pants, the smudge on his cheek, or the way one sleeve was rolled all the way down but the other was still up by a cuff. They all knew, and they said nothing to him either as he took himself below deck. Pheplome cried himself to sleep long before he'd returned, and it nearly broke him to see the small boy curled in the crook of Don's arm. Franky cast them off, and the others busied themselves with helping to maintain Hina's cage such that the prisoners couldn't see either where they were going or who all was on board the ship. Except Luffy, who was riding the foregun with his 'thinking' face on, and Crocodile, who was resting near the helm with an exhausted, glassy look to her eyes.

Just before they landed at Marineford, Sanji returned from wherever he'd hidden himself away, and approached Don, standing next to his lover.

"You'll be good for her." He was quiet so as to not disturb the sleeping boy, but his eyes flicked up to the purple lenses and then back down again, "I had my reservations before. But... you'll be good for her."

Don smiled, the lopsided, grim smile of a man who had seen too much death and was utterly exhausted with it all. Not to mention a parent who'd stayed up all night nursing a sick child. Even now, he was rocking slowly from foot to foot absently. The unconsciousness of it betrayed his experience.

"I'd like to think I'll be. We'll have our misunderstandings, I'm sure. But I have to hope that I'm what she needs, because unless he asks I'm not gonna leave." He looked over at his beloved and the set of his mouth went soft. "I would never ask him to raise the _leibling_ alone."

Crocodile would have had something to say were she awake, and if at that moment, Luffy hadn't decided to leap to his feet and crow to the world (or at least to the gathering at Marineford), "I'M KING OF THE PIRATES!!"

It spoke to the sand user's level of exhaustion though, because she didn't even flinch. Sanji aimed a flying kick to the back of his captain's head for it anyway, and almost immediately Zoro joined in to defend the widely-grinning rubber man. That brought Duval to Sanji's defense, and Usopp to Luffy's, though he couldn't do much. Robin covered her mouth with her hand to hide her smile. Nami rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to clobber them all. Law pretended he didn't see what was going on while Chopper hid behind him backwards and screamed. Smoker growled something that was lost in the din and Franky, at the helm, grinned almost as wide as their captain, steering the ship into port. A chorus of "Yohohoho" sang them home, which spilled out onto the docks as the realization that the Tenryuubito were gone finally hit everyone who had been a part of the war.

Don laughed, recognizing it for what it was: A declaration of their successful victory and letting off steam all at the same time. He knelt next to his mate and kissed the side of her neck, nuzzling up under her ear. "Croc. Sweetheart. Oh Crocodile. We're at our temporary lodgings. Shall we get you in a proper bed?"

"Hm?" She blinked, frowning when she became aware to the incredibly too boisterous for sleep ruckus that was going on around her, "S'the boy?"

"No, he's still asleep. But I want to get you settled before I... approach his papa."

She yawned and stretched, blinking more. Deep shadows colored the skin under her eyes, and her eyebrow seemed to be raised near permanently as if that would keep the lid open as well. She pushed off of both Don and the wall when her sand refused to come to her call. A growl rumbled up between her lips when it became obvious that getting up was something she was not going to be able to do on her own.

"Oh fuck it. Leave me here."

All his feathers poofed out like he'd been zapped with electricity. That phrase, considering the war they'd just gone through, twisted something in the general vicinity of his gut that made him puff up as big as he got.

"No. I'll carry you if I have to. Not safe here. Too open," he insisted, reaching forward and looping an arm under her shoulder.

"I'll not have you carrying me around like a bloated fish!" She growled louder, resisting him. "Go take care of the boy. Then come back and get me."

He shook his head. "Never."

"Don."

He simply shook his head again. He wasn't doing it. He wouldn't. No. He refused. He couldn't tell Crocodile 'no' in a lot of things, but in this, in this he was not going to obey. He would personally string her in a hammock and float her alongside him, carry her in his arm, but he was not leaving her alone and vulnerable around so many enemies.

"You're not going to give in until you've humiliated me entirely are you?" She huffed, feeling more like a whale than her namesake.

Doflamingo gave her a look of stubborn intractability.

"You need to lay in a bed, the _leibling_ is too large now for you to sleep crunched up and if you sleep where you slump here you'll wake up with an awful crick in your spine I won't be able to massage out until after she comes. Let me help, ne?"

Croc grumbled, glaring daggers at him, looked away, then back, then down at her belly and sighed. "Fine." Her head snapped back up with her teeth bare, "But you're _not_ going to carry me!"

He grinned. "No. I'll wait until it's time to take you to the hospital," he teased. "Because you know once the contractions start I will fly you to the nearest one, no arguments."

He offered her both hands. Her hook proved to be more useful for pulling than her hand but she grasped his with it anyway.

"Law has... urgh... already spoken with me about it."

She huffed and if she was smaller her movement could have been described as a pop, as it was, she felt like everything reoriented itself downwards all at once and the change in balance brought her to her feet with a grunt.

"He and Chopper will be on hand to remove her as soon as I go into labor to avoid all of that nonsense I know you would make."

Don brightened. "Wonderful! There are no better hands and hooves to trust with your and the _leibling's_ health."

He tugged her forward another step, away from the bench, and just... held onto her, inhaling her hair. His heart throbbed in his chest, and the words banged at the backs of his teeth with a sudden violence—

He bit them in half and swallowed them back. He had no business saying things like that. If he ever had, he'd lost it twenty years ago. Instead he grinned and nipped at the lock of hair on her forehead.

"Now let's get you somewhere more comfortable and warm, hm?"

She blinked up at him with a frown, but didn't push him. Instead she allowed him to draw her in close, under his coat, "Hm. Tea would be nice."


	24. Chapter 24

The clamor of pirates and marines alike broke the temporary peace that had settled over Marineford. The sun had risen far too early, and the party had lasted far too late for anyone's liking. So when shouted voices echoed through the harbor, the last thing Crocodile wanted was to get up to go see what was going on. She nudged her lover, pushing at his side to make him roll out of the borrowed bed, but it did little to actually help her get back to sleep. So, before he could actually get up or anything she growled and pushed herself up to look out the window above her head. The Pirate King and the newly appointed Fleet Admiral were atop the execution platform, the rubber man wrapped as tightly around their former adversary as he had been the day before, and the reluctant marine trying to resist the urge to rub away the migraine Croc could see throbbing in his temple. At their feet a crowd of people who'd been wronged by Coby were angrily throwing fists into the air and milling about demanding recompense for his actions.

"String him up!"

"Burn him alive!"

"Drown the bastard!"

"He deserves it!"

"Chop off his head!"

Luffy glared at them all but was biting his lips to refrain from yelling at them.

"SHUT TH'FUCK UP!"

The voice bellowed over the cries of the crowd and a hush fell in its wake, everyone who'd ever worked under this man already trained to fall in line when _that_ tone of voice was heard, and the rest afraid he'd enforce it by cutting off their air and dense-packing their oxygen. He paced the edge of the platform, eyes furious slits that made those close enough to read them shiver and quake where they stood. He walked from end to end several times; slowly, the heavy clunk of his boots beating a staccato rhythm of a heartbeat as the crowd held their breath and he made them sweat just as he would new recruits of his own. Finally he stopped in the middle and removed his morning cigars from the corner of his mouth to speak, flicking away the ash.

"You make me take this position. Give me this job and the trappings I don't want. And now you don't want me to do it?" His voice was soft. It had a hair-raising quality to it that carried it over the crowd so each person heard him like he was speaking almost in their ears. "You'd rather _override_ me, me who you talked and coaxed and begged and blackmailed, so you can extract what _you_ want. Petty vengeances."

Protests and shouts started again, but one harsh look from him and the words died unsaid in suddenly tight throats.

"What my former comrade did was cruel. Harsh. Driven by grief into a cunning madness, he became everything the Marines have ever fought against. He became corrupted. Not even by the typical trivialities that corrupt officials; he was not bribed, he was not pressured. He was corrupted by his own pain over losing the person he loved the very most."

He exhaled smoke over the gathered crowd.

"And none of you can tell me you're any different than he is. What happened to Coby could happen to any one of you—HAS happened to a few. To people you know. You can lay the blame squarely at his feet, it was true that he did do these things and he did not care if they were wrong or right because it moved towards his ultimate goal, a goal he thought, in his insanity, was truly a better world for all. You may do that, because the guilt and blame does lie with him."

His face turned hard.

"But don't you fuckin' dare try'n tell me what he 'deserves' based on it. Don't you dare try an' pretend you're so much better when you're demandin' blood payment for the exact same thing that was done to him."

Luffy grinned, "Yosh! Coby comes with me."

The crowd began to shout a third time, having grown bigger from the second-hand attention it was drawing. Others who had been preoccupied with either their own crews, or just recovering from the night of overindulgence, meandered their way back to the center, caught wind of what was going on, and wanted to throw their own opinions into the matter. They all seemed to be of the same mind, fortunate or not, which inspired certain members of both sides to take up a stance between the crowd and the platform. The Strawhats and their closest allies to one side and the former members of G-5 on the other. No matter how rowdy the lynch mob could get, there was no way a single person was going to get through to harm either of the world leaders or the target of everyone's hatred.

Smoker's voice thundered a second time and this time the anger in it struck like a lash.

"I SAID SHADDUP!" He snarled at the crowd and a thick, dark mist started to creep off him, not the normal white smoke, this was closer to deep gray, like from a campfire with green wood. "You want him to suffer, you want him to pay. I get it. Y'all are fuckin' idiots. Now that he's sane again, don't you think he realizes what he's done? Don't ya'll fuckin' KNOW what the truest, most painful punishment of all is?"

"If you want them to suffer, let them live."

Smoker's head jerked up at the pink vision on the wire above them and he finished off both cigars in one inhale. "Aye. 'Splain it for 'em. Doffy."

Don twitched at the nickname but continued. "There is no worse punishment than to live with the memory, than for the knowledge to fester and eat away at the soul like a slow death of a million moments, a stabbing pain that shall never go away. There is no worse torture than to live beaten down by the knowledge that it will never get better, go away or be fixed. If you truly want a man to suffer, make him live with his humiliation and shame hanging over his head and driven into his guts."

He spoke softly, as though it was a by-rote lesson.

"If ya wan't 'em t'suffer, let'm live," Smoker repeated softly. "And would any o' you doubt _Doflamingo's_ methods?"

There was some dissent, murmurs of contention, but overall they understood. Some only too well as faces that had been contorted in rage morphed into smiles that held no mirth. As though the thought of Coby's eternal damnation was something to be celebrated, the crowd began to truly settle. The pervading attitude changed from murderous to sadistic. Perhaps that was why Crocodile took the moment to step forward. She had been waiting, tucked safely on the stairs behind the proceedings, holding to her side the small blond boy they'd rescued from Mariejois. But she walked passed both the admiral and the king like she owned the whole place and sneered down at the gathered masses.

"How dare you?" She held nothing but contempt in her voice. "Don't think I cannot see what grinds beneath the gears of your petty minds. You think to cheat him. To end his life once those who protect him are no longer watching. How foolish. Petty. You disgust me. Sneak thieves who dare call yourselves men? You would smile to his face and slip a shank between his ribs with nothing for him to use in defense."

A rumble of insulted voices cried out indiscernible in their number.

"Hush!"

They quieted.

"You know I speak the truth. You would end his suffering and further another's to make your own wounds feel better. Pathetic. Did we not just rise against those who did just that? Was not our goal in taking down Mariejois to end the exploitation of others' grief to make one person feel better? I spit on you. To think we would remove the world nobles just so you could take their places. Fie! And damn besides! You are no better. No. You are worse. You would crucify him, and teach his son that the only thing his father is any good for is death!" She was shouting, her voice echoing over a squirming public. "What sort of life is that?! Did we learn NOTHING from Portgas' death!? What world would you build where children are taught that they have no right to life?! You! Disgust! Me!"

She turned, her profile such that it drove her point home, and looked with pity on the trembling form of the former admiral. Luffy stood behind him, only a hand on his shoulder anymore, as shock and some unnamed mess of grief and fear gripped his soul. His eyes darted from the small boy to their faces and back again. The child's genetics were obvious, and the implication of Croc's words hit him like a ton of bricks.

"My son?" He shook his head. "No... no... he's not..." Luffy squeezed his shoulder, and Coby fell to his knees. "We weren't even... I can't raise his..."

"Then who else will care for him?" Croc asked quietly.

The little boy gave in to the urge to suck his thumb, clutching the stuffed toy that was all he had left of the place where he'd been born. He blinked eyes that were too familiar, and mumbled, "Papa?"

The pink haired man shattered, crying and reaching for him, nodding, "Yes! Yes! A million times yes!"

Though confused, Pheplome allowed himself to be gathered into Coby's arms and cuddled. Crocodile turned from them to glare accusingly at the crowd. Had the former Fleet Admiral been wrong? Had he done horrible things? Yes. But he was human, and though forgiveness was not something that came easily, the sand user stood with the others at the top of the world and demanded it, not for the sake of the man who had hurt them, but for the sake of the child that had no one else to turn to.

Fathers looked away uncomfortably within the crowd, as others looked at their children and fought not to hold them so tight it hurt. Still others fell down and wept for children lost, while little ones who had lost those who loved them wailed louder than any scream. Doflamingo descended, the crowd shying away from him, and Smoker floated beside him before glaring out at the silent, ashamed crowd.

"Y'all ain't makin' m'first act as Admiral put these kids up as wards of the state. IF YOU GOT ROOM FER ANOTHER MOUTH, STEP FORWARD!"

The children cringed from the rough timbre above and shoved closer together while Doflamingo made soft, soothing noises and gathered them up in his coat, not caring how cold it would be. The kids needed comfort.

The shift from punishment to acceptance didn't come as quickly to some as to others, but one by one each child that had been orphaned was adopted. At the end of it, three remained. A delicate flower with eyes far too large for her face, set bright and blue against nearly ebony skin; a little boy who'd eaten some sort of canine Zoan fruit because he had spotted, floppy ears sticking out of the mop of fluffy red hair on the top of his head; and a panda, who throughout the whole thing had hidden behind Don's leg, burying his face against the skin in an effort to not be noticed.

Those that couldn't afford to take one in, and those that were in too much pain to care for them properly, left. The crews of various pirate ships climbed onto marine vessels for a ride to where their ships had been impounded. Eventually it meant that the strongest crews were the only ones left, as all but the members of G-5 from the navy had repairs and other tasks in order to bring the world back into some semblance of working order before the news of the overhaul reached the far corners of the globe. The trouble was it meant that those three children were left behind.

Don gently pried off the little panda boy and sat cross-legged on the ground to look each child in the face. He ruffled their hair, hugged them close. Then, looked up at Smoker.

The Fleet Admiral wisely held up his hands, palms open and out. "I'm not th'one yer oughter be askin'. That's up t'yer man."

Don picked up all three, holding them securely to his chest and slinging his coat back over his shoulders, to get back on the stage where Croc was waiting and pushes his glasses up to his forehead to make the biggest puppy eyes he could possibly manage.

"Don..." Croc looked at them, then at his lover, "Don, no. Don... we can't... we don't even have a ship. Don..."

"We will take the little girl, Doflamingo-san." The Strawhat archaeologist smiled, one of her spare hands tapping the blond man on the shoulder to get his attention.

A little reluctantly, he handed her over, which left him with the two zoan boys. As Croc well knew, he was _already_ getting attached, quicker and quicker, like All Saints with a new female.

"They need someone to teach them how to use their Devil Fruits," he said logically. "They could get badly hurt, or hurt someone else, unless they manage to harmonize with their Zoans."

There was barking, and the scrabble of claws, and someone cursing, as several more sets of hands lifted the little girl up high into the air before her new adopted father caught her, her fall cushioned so that the metal wouldn't hurt her. She giggled and bopped his nose after a hint from her new mother. The "ow!" Franky let up was swallowed by the tumble of too-long canine legs as the Hellhound tripped over the last step onto the platform and crashed into his boss, coming nose to nose with the puppy boy.

"OOH! HI!" He grinned, tail wagging in a rhythmic thump-thump-thump on the wood.

Don made an effort to sit up, coughing, as heavy boots clomped onto the stage to stop next to the hound in his lap. "Niji, this is... little one, what is your name?"

Beside her mate, the Plumber was tilting her head at the panda boy, trying to peek around Don's feathers, her orange pipe wrench tucked into her belt clanking against her leg as she circled to the side.

The puppy muttered something, his own whip-like tail tucked between his legs. He couldn't have been more than five, younger than Pheplome, but already harder, his ears flipping up and back, listening to everything. Niji wouldn't take that as answer though, and gruffled into his belly, play-growling and tail wagging. He tackled him into full dog form, revealing him to be a pitbull puppy. He yelped at first, but once the Zoan instincts took over he retaliated, biting and pulling at the bigger dog’s ear with the same noises, tail high as it should have been.

The panda burrowed deeper into Don's chest, so the Plumber left him to watch the puppy play with her puppy, crouching down and putting the Empress carefully on the wood before reaching over and lightly swatting her mate on the hindquarters.

"Oye. Lemme play too!"

"Grrff."

The Plumber got a face full of tail in response, but a lap full of puppy as Niji head-butted the younger dog off of his paws. He gave a bark again and flailed his legs trying to respond, only to find himself stuck on his back with his belly exposed and tempting. The Hellhound smirked at his mate, and gave a tail wag that dared the human to give in.

She didn't need a lot of coaxing: she had a weakness for canines. First she tickled with her fingers while bending up, then she pressed her lips to his furry belly and blew to hear him squirm and shriek with laughter as he lost his puppy form.

Then she did it three more times before sitting back on her hands and giving her boss the most deadpan of looks.

He sighed.

She smirked and looked at her Hellhound, then nodded.

The large dog's tongue lolled out of his mouth in a huge grin, and the puppy looked between them confused. Then he closed the distance and snatched him up by the scruff of his neck and trotted off with him, head and tail high. He was his puppy now! His and no one else's! Hmph!

That left the little panda, and Croc was softening. She could feel it. Left behind, not once, but several times. No little one deserved that, but the _bambina_... She remembered what it had been like raising Law and Bellamy, but they had been older, about the same age as the panda boy. She could only imagine how much more taxing an actual infant was going to be, and she opened her mouth to say as much only to be cut off.

"Mr. Doflamingo, sir?"

Don looked up—and blinked. Was that—?

"...Bepo?"

The panda boy blinked up at the large polar bear, and his jaw dropped open. Law's navigator flailed and stepped back several paces, in spite of having been the one to address the large man, and bent in half, "I'm sorry. But he is not a Zoan."

The fact that he was correcting Doflamingo of all people seemed to have depressed him, but the quiet chuckle of his captain kept him from running away.

Don blinked, then picked him up and held him. "Ah. So he's an actual cub, just with a semi-human bone structure like you then?"

The little boy kicked his legs, trying to scurry back to the pink safety and warmth, squirming and making little whimpering noises.

"H-hai!" Bepo bowed again, but he kept glancing up at the cub like he wanted to say something else.

The puppetmaster raised a very obvious eyebrow and Law nudged his first mate and navigator. "And wasn't there something else, Bepo? I assure you, my father does not bite."

"Could... could I... if he wants to... I'venevermetanyonefrommyhomeislandinthegrandlinebeforeandhe'sallalonecouldIraisehimMr.Doflamingosir!" The end of it came out all in a rush, color tinting the fur on his cheeks a deep pink.

Don smiled and looked at the cub. "Well?"

The boy squeaked and reached for Bepo where he hung.

The string man chuckled. "He's yours."

As soon as the little panda was in his arms the polar bear was all hearts and smiles, hugging the cub and nuzzling his fluff cheek with his nose. The rest of the world was gone and the navigator moved off, his stubby tail actually flipping back and forth—a habit he'd picked up being around the Hellhound so often. With his exit though, Crocodile smiled, the weight of possibly having to take in the three orphans lifted from her shoulders. She leaned against her lover, tired again, but not wanting to let anyone know about it.

"I would have said no, you know." She teased, obviously lying.

"And I would have continued begging like Niji does to Robin until all had loving homes," he teased back, though his was quite obviously the truth.

He adored children and he was terrible about it. He wouldn’t have let them stay orphans for long even if he'd had to beg at every outlying island for leagues. Still... he knew they were in good hands.

He kissed her head and again the words pressed down his tongue. It almost hurt to keep them contained, but he managed to, jaw muscle working as he chewed his lip.

"You know your strings vibrate when you do that." She commented, seemingly focused mostly on the way the G-5 officers mimicked the Strawhat captain, clamoring about and celebrating with their own respective groups.

It was nice to not be noticed for a change. With any luck, she hoped to be able to sneak away with her beloved and find some Summer island somewhere before the _bambina_ was born. Her hand ghosted over the side of her belly, soothing the child within absently.

"My strings vibrate constantly," he answered with an air of practiced absence as his own hand joined hers on her stomach gently, thumb rubbing slow circles. "Don't you remember? You asked me once why I always seemed a little deaf and yet always knew what people were saying? Constant music. Constant vibration."

"Not like that they don't." She looked up at him, conveniently pillowing her head on the fluff over his bicep. "The closer we get to Marguerite's birth, the more you do that particular vibration. Why?"

"Excited to meet the _leibling_ ," he said, cuddling her a little closer. "I anticipate her coming with much excitement and nervousness."

The disbelief was clear on her face, "Right..."

"Well I've never raised a _baby_ before," he protested, feeling a very real jolt of fear in his stomach thinking about it. "Everyone I've adopted was no younger than four."

"You will surely be better at it than I. Do you not remember the first time Law had a fever?"

He winced. "Ohhhhh yes. You swore up and down he was going to die," he said fondly. "No matter how much I told you it was just a little fever. God, do you remember when he got chicken pox?"

"Please..." She cringed, "The ship smelled of oatmeal for weeks." Just remembering the scent made her stomach churn unhappily. "And then he gave it to Bellamy."

Don groaned. "And he scratched himself so raw we smelled blood before we ever even knew he HAD it!"

"He still has that scar, you know. On his temple." She sighed, "I suppose you're right. It is nerves. But I think after all of this... how hard could parenting be?"


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was all one chapter, but because of length it had to be broken into two. XD

"Purrup purrup purrup purrup purrup. Purrup purrup purrup purrup purrup."

The sound of the transponder snail echoed faintly around the metal walls. A gentle beep underscored that as the radar pinged to maintain the depth. And the hushed voices outside the room were both familiar and busy with the mundane tasks of running a submarine. Occasionally a small high-pitched squeal punctuated the overall murmur, but it was quickly shushed by the owner's adopted father.

The tousled midnight waves separated themselves from where they'd been buried against thick maroon fur, and a heavily tattooed hand pulled the receiver from its shell, "Hai, Luffy-ya?"

"TRAFFY!!! MANGO SAYS IT'S TIME!" The snail screamed, making the sleep deprived surgeon wince and close an eye.

There was yelling in the background, violent yelling of the same phrase over and over again that after a minute or two, it became clear what it was: "WHERE IS MY SON? HE PROMISED HE'D COME, WHERE IS MY SON?"

Underscoring it were shout of 'someone get him out of here' and 'we told you not to let him out of the kitchen' and an infuriated 'I told you not to mention her water broke!'

The chaos, and the panic, was clear even over the little snail.

Kid groaned into Law's shoulder, the noise actually waking him from his like-the-dead sleep.

Law pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll be there in an hour. Chopper knows what to do. Tell Cook-ya to have sake ready, and Luffy-ya?"

The snail didn't seem to be paying attention but murmured, "Ah?"

"Don't tackle me when you first see me. I have company."

"Ah. MANGO! MAKE THE FEATHERS DO THAT—Clatcha!" The snail hung up without any further conversation and Law groaned.

He leaned over to steal a kiss from his bed partner, then slipped out from under the covers. He left his shirt unzippered, and his hat on the hook, as he left the captain's quarters. Penguin was quick to supply his first morning coffee, and Shachi was already at the helm, having heard snippets of the conversation through the door. Jade clung to his father's leg, black paws blending in with the jumpsuit Bepo wore.

"Tighten the ropes connecting us to Eustass-ya's ship and make for Dressrosa." The captain spoke over his cup, and around him the others of the crew snapped to their duties.

The hum of the engines was all the warning the bears got before the submarine set off, knocking them both to the deck in a tumble of fur and screaming that went entirely unnoticed by everyone else on board. After a short while Kid emerged from Law's bunk scowling and grumpy, his shirt missing and his belt slung low, though he had his coat about his shoulders. He took one look around and rolled his eyes, pulling out a baby den den mushi to reassure his own crew that being tugged along by the Heart Pirates was part of the plan because he knew Law wouldn't have taken the time to do that, and the last thing he needed was Killer thinking he'd been kidnapped again.

Twice was entirely too many times for that joke.

As predicted, it took nearly an hour for Law to arrive where the Thousand Sunny was docked outside Green Bit on the North shore of Dressrosa. His father's lover was antisocial under the best of conditions. In her current state, she wanted as few people to see her as possible.

Doflamingo had been successfully driven onto the deck, where he paced, chattered, and kept trying to dart around the door guard. Thankfully, Robin's ability enabled her to thwart him every time, leaving him to back away making hissing and clicking noises angrily. His glasses were gone somewhere and his feathers were puffed out as far as they could go in a threat display; he looked like a true bird. A dangerous bird. He seemed to have gone mildly feral in some form.

It made Kid tense up nervously. "Law..."

"Papa, I will sedate you." Was the surgeon's opening remark as he hopped the railing onto the lawn deck.

Don wasn't the only one kicked out of the medical bay and galley, but the sniper had quickly ascended to the crow's nest along with the musician. Zoro was sitting on the bench at the bottom of the mast, doing something with a knife and a small object, and entirely ignoring the flustered bird. Beyond Robin and Franky on the door, Nami sat on the railing with her Clima-tact at the ready, not to call storms exactly, but to smack certain heads should the need arise. Especially as Luffy kept swinging from the rigging and bouncing about the place in celebration, cheering about how he was going to give the baby meat as soon as it was born. The other expectant father was nowhere to be seen, and Law hoped that meant he was in the kitchen rather than the hospital, because he really didn't want to have to deal with his father being worried _and_ jealous.

Don hissed at him too, at first, then tilted his head and peered at him, his neck moving up and down, side to side, and diagonally as his pupils dilated wide. After a moment or two of examination, he seemed to recognize his 'chick' and fluttered—literally, with how his feathers went swirling about—over to him.

Kid tensed when the huge man bent to nearly eye level.

"Papa..." The tone was warning, his hand already raised.

Don pushed his face into that hand, chirping quietly, and rubbed his hair into the tattooed fingers. His eyes closed, and his breathing deepened as he seemed to get a hold of himself. When they blinked back open, the pinpricks of yellow were gone, dilated back to normal size.

"You're here."

It was at times like these that Law always felt compelled to apologize for the mental capacity of his adopted father. Instead, he rolled his eyes and sighed. The end of it landed on his lover and there was the unspoken 'I'm sorry you had to see this' hovering under his heavy lids, then he took his hand back, and cleared his throat.

"I need to speak with Chopper-ya and see Papi."

Don grinned and relaxed. "They're in the infirmary. They'll let you in." He rolled his shoulders, settled them, and hummed. "They'll be ok now. You're here."

Kid trailed behind his lover cautiously, watching Doflamingo like a hawk. He made the hair on the back of his neck stand up somehow.

Franky stood up straighter, "OW! Law-bro!"

The surgeon nodded and ascended past the door guards with little trouble. He kept up a stern expression as he entered the infirmary, but as soon as the door was closed, he turned to his other adopted parent smiling softly. "Ganbare, Papi?"

Her hair was pulled up into a loose, wispy ponytail, and she was wearing a shift that kept her covered without being restrictive. She glanced up at her eldest and tried to smile, but a contraction drew her attention inward, as she gripped the edge of the table rocking back and forth a little.

Chopper stood next to her, dabbing her forehead with a cool cloth. "They've been about eight minutes apart for the last half hour, but I expect they'll progress soon. They've been getting harder."

Law nodded, moving around to be in Croc's direct line of vision, "Papi?"

Again all she could do was glance up, breathing through her mouth, the lines of her body drawn in pain.

"You need to lay down if we're still going to do this through C-sec—"

"No!" She cried loud enough to be heard through the door. "I can do this."

There was sudden shouting and the sound of a fist on the door before there was an awful lot of thudding and a "TIE HIM LUFFY".

"MY MATE NEEDS ME YOU GET OFF!" From there it quickly degenerated back to feral bird noises and curses as they struggled to keep Don out of the infirmary and under control, with... varied levels of success.

The pot of water flew into the air, the liquid itself sparkling in the semi-tropical sunshine, spinning in what seemed to be slow motion as the man who threw it spun in tandem with it, the heel of his immaculate dress shoe impacting the larger man's cheek bone with the sound of an explosion. He landed from the round kick, held out his hands and caught the pot and water in perfect timing to avoid even a single drop being spilled on the deck.

"Calm down or I'll murder you myself." He was tense, a half-bitten through, unlit, cigarette clenched between his teeth. "He doesn't need you flying off the handle. You've learned _nothing_ being our ally. Either trust your Nakama, or get off this ship."

A hush gathered over the collected crew. Not a one of them had seen Sanji this serious outside of battle, even in battle sometimes he was less focused than this. He turned to Chopper, who was standing in the doorway of the medical bay, and handed off the pot, not trying to even see past the doctor. When the door closed again, he took a calming breath, tucked his hands into his pockets and took obviously measured steps back towards the galley, his shoes sounding with a staccato of withheld stress.

Don didn't say anything, but that might have had something to do with the thick arm around his throat that was squeezing pretty hard.

"Trust yer man," Zoro snarled in the blond's ear. "He's in the hands of yer boy and my doctor. You trust 'em."

Don struggled weakly, but Zoro refused to let go. "Trust. Them."

With a long hiss, he went limp and let Zoro drag him to the crow's nest.

Four hours later Sanji joined them, unable to continue waiting in the galley. Crocodile had been out, walking around the deck outside the infirmary twice, but she neither saw nor heard anyone. Law held her left arm, support and guiding her, her right hand splayed around the taut swell of her belly. She could only go a few steps before stopping again, clearly in significant pain. But none of the expectant fathers had been allowed out on deck at the time, forced to watch and not interfere per her orders. She could do this, she knew she could. She felt it deep inside, some part of her she'd never been particularly connected to before.

After she'd retreated the second time, and the doors had been unlocked, Sanji fled to the crow's nest to pace, chain smoking. He trusted them. He kept reminding himself that he did, but still... he worried.

Don's frantic pacing and shedding of feathers all over the room had worked Zoro's already stretched nerves, so the swordsman had demanded Don start working with the heaviest weights he could lift. It turned out he could lift the same ones Sanji could, but only with his legs, the stick like limbs bulging. Zoro had then taken up watch at the window, which he opened to vent smoke, and blocked with his chest so Don couldn't keep peering out of it.

The sun had started to sink below the horizon when it became obvious that something was wrong. The guards on the door were whispering to each other, nervous looks and furtive glances that were only half hidden from the three in the crow's nest. Luffy had his arms crossed over his chest, and his hat was low. Franky pulled Robin into his arms, and Nami held herself perched on the railing with her back to the main mast. Usopp was seated in the middle of them, mashing something in a bowl with a serious expression on his face. Brook stood guard under the ladder to the weight room, tuning his violin in an attempt to look nonchalant. The act failed horribly as a scream rent the air.

Within the infirmary Croc clutched her adopted son's hand with a death-grip, ponytail long ruined and actual sweat and tears pouring off of her. About half an hour ago, her Devil Fruit shut down entirely, and since then the two doctors had been trying to get Marguerite out. The baby was descended into her mother's pelvis, and crowning but now appeared to be stuck. Contractions kept the expectant woman curled in pain on the edge of the bed, but nothing was working. She screamed again, wordless sounds of denial. She couldn't have gotten this far just to fail. No!

Don freaked out, and it took combined effort from Sanji and Zoro to subdue him, but that was ignored over what was happening in the infirmary.

"Try and relax between contractions, breathe Crocodile, yes, keep breathing, do _not_ blackout," Chopper was coaching, taking on his human-most form for use of the fingers, encased in huge gloves coated with medical lubricant as he tried desperately to get the crown out.

"I CAN'T!! I CAN'T!!! AHHHHHHH!!" She cried again, losing her rhythm, and pulling Law to her.

Nothing else existed but getting the life within her out while she was still alive. She pushed and did the absolute opposite of what she'd been told. She held her breath. Something popped, and the monitor tracking the both of them started beeping.

Law didn't even think. "Room!"

The light was brighter thanks to the confined space, and he had his scalpel out immediately, separating child from mother in an instant. There was blood, and it wasn't pretty when he separated the placenta from the wall of her womb, but a moment later he was holding his baby sister in his arm. Holding her close, the surgeon put Crocodile back together with one hand and dismissed his powers. But the monitor kept beeping.

Frantic, Chopper checked Crocodile's vitals, checked the seam of Law's incision: what was wrong? Her vitals should be coming back down! Shock? Her body not realizing the baby was out? Her heart? Panicking, Chopper checked that next.

"Chopper, the blood. He's hemorrhaging. Get the bowl from Sniper-ya."

Law could see where her vaginal wall had torn, something that with Marguerite in the way had been both hidden from view and contained. Now that the baby was out, the tear was open to pour blood onto the floor, and Croc was growing paler by the second.

Chopper slammed open the door, took the bowl and pestle, and slammed the door shut again without any explanation. Not only was Usopp well aware of what this was for, there was no time.

The only thing that any of the others saw was the state of the reindeer's clothing. Nami gasped, and Robin, though she still had her own reservations about her former boss, turned away with a hand over her mouth.

"So much blood..." Usopp quivered, the words far too loud in the hush over the ship.

At the main mast, Sanji sank, unable to support himself anymore. Zoro barely caught him, his mouth in a hard line. "We don't know anything yet."

Don was shaking. "He- he's bigger than most people. He can lose more blood comparatively and live," he said, but it was a weak hope. He clung to the mast to stay upright, then gave it up and sank down to hug his knees to his chest. "He can't die. Chopper and Law won't let him."

Law held onto his little sister like she was a lifeline while his fellow doctor worked. The paste sealed up the wound, but there was only so much blood they could give her and hope she'd pull through. Her heart rate was stable again, but her blood pressure was still too low to be safe. She'd fallen back onto the bed, and once she was cleaned up, Chopper made sure she was comfortable.

The reason Marguerite had been stuck was clear in the length and elasticity of her umbilical cord. She'd had the thing wrapped about her six times, and simply hadn't had enough room to move. The little girl was exhausted, not even enough energy to cry, which seriously worried her big brother. He tucked her close, wrapped up in his own shirt for lack of anything else, and monitored her breathing and heart rate like a hawk. Though she was a healthy eight pounds, three ounces, she was lethargic, and he couldn't get her to respond to her base reflexes. For the first time all day, Law worried.

"Chopper-ya..."

"Give her oxygen, Law, after the strangling that cord gave her I'm sure she needs it," Chopper ordered, voice clipped and tensed as he continued monitoring Crocodile with a worried glance at the baby. "Let her have it ten minutes and test her reflexes again."

Doing as he was told helped Law make a resolution to work with tiny patients more often as it was more nerve-wracking than he could even begin to articulate. The mask was huge over her tiny nose and mouth, and he didn't dare use an actual respirator, he could blow out her lungs. But the manual, collapsing bubble version was far too bulky, and uncoordinated. Still, he managed it, squeezing slowly, and letting her exhale on her own since her ribs and lungs needed the practice. She coughed and whimpered, not liking how cold it was compared to the environment she'd been living in for the last ten months, but that meant she was wiggling a little more, since she had a reason to complain. She wasn't very strong, but she made herself known with squeaks and cries that carried through the crack in the door to the deck outside.

Just as Croc flatlined.

Chopper exploded into action as just outside the door there came a howl like a demon from Hell. Breaths, heart compressions, his fear mounting until he snapped at Law to put Marguerite in the crib and _come help him dammit._

Hearts. Yes. Hearts he could do. But... Marguerite. Papi. Marguerite! Papi! His indecision wasted precious moments, though in the end he did lay her down to attend his fellow doctor, removing his adoptive parent's heart to pump it manually without hurting her further. It took a long time, and the longer it took the harder it was for Law to separate the fact that this was his _Papi_ he was saving. By the time she had a regular rhythm, on her own, again, the surgeon of death was exhausted, and shaking. Finally, as the moon reached its apex, the sand user stabilized, her vitals coming back to normal and her body relaxed into sleep out of unconsciousness.

Chopper helped put her back together and then picked up the baby again, who was nestled up in her blankets and dozing. "Here. Take her to Doflamingo and then… get some sleep. You've had a long surgery."

Law nodded, gathering Marguerite into his arms again, and exiting the infirmary too tired to actually complain about Chopper having been working just as long and just as hard as he had been.

Chopper would remain on guard just in case there was another slip up.

Don meanwhile, was rocking back and forth on the deck, slowly and obsessively fondling a bit of thin air. It had to be some kind of thread, obviously, invisible to all others, but he was muttering to it until he looked up and saw Law.

"Are they alright?"

"He's sleeping. Safely. And she's exhausted, but healthy." The bundle in his arms had barely even stirred when her big brother picked her up. "You can hold her, if you like."

Throat closing, the puppetmaster stood and took her, stroking her head with one hand. "My little Mags. We'll... we'll be okay. Yeah." He started to smile. "We'll make it. Won't we, little one?"

As soon as the baby was in her step-father's care, rubber arms wrapped themselves around Law, pulling him into an embrace from which he couldn't escape. Not that he wanted to. He sank into the Strawhat captain's chest, and sighed, the exhaustion of the day weighing down on him. Luffy escorted him, without letting go, down to the men's bunk room, and the fold out couch where they'd first come to know each other more intimately. There was food waiting for them already, and the rest of the crew would spend the night on deck with Don and Mags to give the captains some privacy.

However, they'd all seem to have forgotten, Law hadn't come alone.


	26. Chapter 26

Kid raised his head and tilted it. The tension in the air had broken at last, and for a little bit, he waited patiently for his lover to return so he could relax him after the undoubtedly grueling operation.

He didn't come. And after several more minutes, maybe twenty, he lurched from the bed with a low snarl. What the living fuck was Trafalgar doing?!

Sniffing at the air, he followed the scent of blood and wet fur, the reek of recent fear until he found himself entering the depths of the Sunny, away from the infirmary. Why? It made him uneasy. The trail took him further, to the men's bunkroom, until he slammed open the door with his hackles up, eyes narrowed to slits.

Luffy blinked at him, open and neutral. Law was off to the side, already almost sleeping, or he had been before the redhead banged the door against the wall. Now he was glaring at him, tired and drawn, and all he wanted was to just sleep. The energy in the room though told him it wouldn't happen anytime soon. Still, he tried.

"I don't suppose you could put this off until after I am over my migraine?"

Kid's nostrils flared and he growled, dark and low, as he took in the situation.

"Eustass-ya..." Law rubbed his temple.

He knew it looked bad, the Strawhat captain was sprawled across his lap and both of them were shirtless. Granted the meat in Luffy's mouth was sausage of the kind that was _not_ part of anyone's anatomy, but still, the surgeon knew all too well how jealous the third captain could get when he thought his territory was being invaded.

The third captain crossed his arms over his chest and the corner of his lip curled up in a snarl, but the sight of Luffy just... sort of randomly munching on a rather large sausage (which was disappearing astonishingly rapidly) was enough to shake him out of any real rage before he could gather steam.

That didn't make him any less prickled as he basically stomped into the room and loomed over both people on the bed. "And why th'fuck are yah here instead'a the sub?"

"It was closer. There is food excellently prepared. And I was invited. Are you actually going to do this while my ocular nerves are attempting to reinvent the spectrum?" Between tone and expression, Law was more done than Luffy's snack.

He growled. "Ya won't fuckin' be any more willin' while awake, best t'get it outta th'way. Yer been fuckin'im?"

"Does it matter?"

The older brunette sighed, and the younger wisely stayed quiet, though that may have been more due to his stuffing his face. Nothing interrupted Luffy while he was eating, at least not without serious consequences.

Kid’s lip curled further. "Yeah, it fuckin' does, an' ya know it."

"Eustass-ya, did we ever have a conversation regarding being exclusive? I don't recall one, but since you seem to delight in picking the worst moments to debate this sort of thing with me..."

The master of magnetism snarled again, wordless, angry, and his fist rose without thought to stop it- the metal one, sparking and grinding.

Haki cut through the room. "Stoppit."

His Devil Fruit shorted out and the entire arm fell off him, leaving him backing up, hissing, hand darting to cover the stump. As Law knew, he felt horribly vulnerable without the protective metal; he would take the arm and go, flee to lick his aching pride like a wounded dog, after anything to make him so vulnerable. He was a cornered beast, and a dangerous one.

"Parties are no place for fighting." Luffy spoke around his mouthful of noodles, sitting up to pull the bowl closer.

Law looked at the Pirate King, then at the redhead, his mouth drawn and a subtle tremble keeping him quiet. He barely had the energy to withstand that, and really if the rubber man hadn't been intent on stopping Kid from causing trouble, he probably would have wound up passing out from it. As it was, it left his already exhausted self drawn and stretched thin. Not for the first time he wished fervently that his need for opiates and sex in order to sleep wasn't quite so bad, because in truth, he too had forgotten his sometimes lover was with him, and he'd been planning, once Luffy was sated with food, in taking the rubber man up on his standing offer. Something that was made obvious by his lap being emptied, though he closed his knees quickly, he knew his reflexes were too slow.

Kid closed his eyes, but he'd already seen it, and his jaw clenched. "Don't worry. Ain't gonna be."

He bent to pick up his arm, a raging fire twisting his guts that he would never admit wasn't anger. Obviously he wasn't wanted around here. Killer could ship out in thirty minutes or less. Maybe an hour if the crew wanted to bother the Strawhat cook for a meal.

A rubber hand snapped out and grabbed a hold of the metal master's shirt, pulling him further into the room, off balance, and down, onto the pile of cushions on the floor around them. When he landed his nose was millimeters away from some dessert covered in whipped cream. Law choked on a laugh, knowing that there was no way Luffy was going to allow the third captain to sulk when the Pirate King himself was in such a good mood.

Kid sputtered and coughed, already twisting to look and check that his arm was alright, and a sparkle of purple moved it more out of the way if Strawhat was going to start doing shit like that. He then sneezed, the whipped cream having tickled his nose, and sat up to shake himself and try and figure out what the living fuck that was for.

He wound up asking. "What th'fuck, Strawhat?!"

"It's a party." He said, as if that explained everything.

Law waited a minute, then rolled his eyes and a smile tugged at his lips. "He means you're to join in the fun." He paused significantly. "All of it."

Kid's face twisted up in confusion so extreme it would have been hilarious in any other situation. "What... th'fuck? Are yah fuckin' kiddin' me?"

"There are few things Mugiwara-ya takes more seriously than his parties." The surgeon was actually trying not to laugh at that point, while the object of his sentence plowed through yet another dish of Sanji's best cooking.

Kid threw up his hand, and then threw himself on the bed, sighing. He left his back to Luffy and to Law, his head hurting and not wanting to deal with anymore bullshit.

Luffy gave Law a look. Law wrinkled his nose at Luffy. Luffy scrunched up his mouth, deliberately biting a prawn in half, and Law sighed, rolling over to align himself with Kid's back. He nuzzled under the redhead's hair, nipping and kissing the skin there while his hand drew up the thicker man's side to trace the edge of his pants under the coat.

"Eustass-ya..." He purred, "Join the party...?"

The thick muscles shifted and twitched beneath his skin as a breathier growl escaped him. "Nnn... an' why would I? Ain't in a... partyin'... mood."

He rolled his shoulder, but it was more a movement to settle their bodies a little better than to try and shove Law off.

Talented fingers danced over the contours of the redhead's abs to the beat of the bottomless pit behind them, "Because I am, and you always give me what I want."

Kid's neck arched back. "Oh do I... I should mebbe... think 'bout changin' that."

He shivered, muscle rippling beneath the touches, raw power just barely contained for the surgeon's benefit and enjoyment.

"Maybe..." Law purred, nipping up to his ear to tug on the lobe with his teeth. "But the question is can you?"

The surgeon skipped over both belts to the fabric below them, just tracing indistinct patterns through the layers between himself and what he was aiming for.

This time the redhead’s growl had a distinct note of arousal in it as the flesh beneath his fingertips heated up and swelled as he tilted his head to bare more skin. "Mmmm, keep control'a my body 'way from you? Not a chance in Hell, Trafalgar."

"Then the intelligent choice, Eustass-ya," Law pushed himself further up, so he could more comfortably palm that ridge, and give the redhead a sultry smirk, "would be to give in, and join the party, ne?"

The metal medallion that locked his belts—and thus his pants—in place turned with a whirl of purple power and 'click'ed unlocked. "Well now you got me all in th'partyin' mood."

"Good." Luffy grinned, his neck stretched so he could be right over the both of them.

The food was gone, not nearly enough in his opinion but then it usually took an entire town's cooking to fill him up completely, and if the master of magnetism was done pouting he was ready for part two, which he'd been working on before Kid showed up.

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST STRAWHAT!" Kid, Law's soothing or no, was still fairly hair-trigger thanks to his lack of an arm and was now glaring up at him from the floor, rubbing his already-bruising pale ribs.

Law pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and stifling a tired sigh. He rolled back onto the cushion with a groan and hiked his hips to readjust himself, the continued tease at actually getting something done only to be interrupted was becoming stressful, both mentally and physically. He didn't jack off on his own often but he was sorely tempted to just leave the other two to their own devices and take care of the problem himself.

Luffy, on the other hand, merely grinned, "Top or bottom?"

Kid climbed back onto the bed and flopped on his back, sighing. "Whatever Law wants. He's the one knows what he's doin' wit' me."

"At this point, Eustass-ya, I really don't care all that much. You may top if you wish, but if someone doesn't do something soon, I am going back to the sub." The surgeon slipped his pants down to his hips, giving a teasing glimpse of dark curls above the waistband.

Luffy leaned a little closer to Kid, "You wanna go down on him, or should I do it?"

Kid blinked. "Wait... what? You just—?"

Law chuckled. "Eustass is unaccustomed to...'jumping right in' as it were," he explained to Luffy. "Usually, he just starts tugging my clothes off and we see where it progresses from there."

The Strawhat captain grinned again and bounced to the other side of the surgeon with a certain air that usually wasn't present in the bedroom. "Mah! But Traffy's already half naked and so am I. So you should pull your clothes off, Stacy."

Kid went red in the face so fast and so red that for a second Law was genuinely worried he was going to have an aneurysm. "WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!"

Law had to hold him down with a sharp pinch to the hip to keep him from rising to strangle the Strawhat captain.

Grinning all the harder than he had been before, the Pirate King stretched across them both to plant a toe-curling kiss on the redhead's lips, not a care in the world that he could end up skewered or bitten. There was something about the way Luffy kissed, like he reached in through his partner's mouth and energized their soul. It stole breath and brain function, and sent all of the blood in a person's body rushing towards their private parts, in the case of people like Law that meant incapacitating his ability to speak.

For Kid...

It meant quelling his rage, banking the fires down into coals that smoldered in his gut of passion instead, and though he twitched, he slowly relaxed, warmth seeming to cascade through him. It was enough that he could, just for a moment... forget everything other than this kiss. He could even forget his missing arm.

Law watched with amusement, stroking Kid's hip.

"Clothes off?" The Pirate King asked when he pulled back to give the bigger man air.

The redhead nodded, a little dazed, and Law pointed Luffy at the undone belt while he took off the shirt himself, aware if he let Kid make the attempt he would remember his arm and break the mood.

The smile that took over the rubber man's face was anything but nice or innocent. In fact as he dove at the redhead's belt, he licked his lips and if it had been any other person Law would have sworn the sound Luffy made was a growl. He peeled back the fabric and wasted no time, laying his tongue against semi-straining flesh and letting it stretch to wrap all the way around.

Kid snarled, his hips immediately bucking until they were held down by slim, tattooed fingers, and his head tossed a little as he panted, scrabbling for a handhold until Law took his face in his hands and kissed him stupid.

The first thing he noticed when he came back to himself was an odd pulsing light, warm and very close to his face, but dim in the darkened cabin. The familiar, comfortable weight of Trafalgar was curled against his side, and sprawled across them both; Strawhat was doing his best to imitate a blanket. Kid groaned, automatically trying to bring his hand to head only to remember that it had fallen off earlier. The movement of his stump and the subsequent ripple of anger-fear-sorrow-horror that went through him made the light flicker brighter. When his vision re-focused he found the stormy grey sea into which he fell so often watching him.

"Shh." Law murmured, and Kid found himself feeling calm, which wasn't unusual around the surgeon but was at the same time.

"Th'fuck?"

"Shh." Law said again.

That was when the master of magnetism caught a better view of where the light was coming from. He vaguely registered the older brunette attempting to calm him down but it was detached and far too late as he flung himself back on the bed, surreptitiously bouncing Luffy off onto the floor with a yelp. "Ahh!"

The Pirate King popped back up over the edge with frown, rubbing his cheek. "Mah! What was that for Stacy?!"

"YER FUCKIN' GLOWIN' STRAWHAT!" Then he realized while the glow had dimmed slightly, it wasn't GONE, and he turned his gaze first on Trafalgar and then on himself, mouth dropping open when he realized both of them were glowing too.

"I've heard of a fuckin' afterglow but this is motherfuckin' ridiculous! Trafalgar, shut it off!"

The surgeon barely resisted rolling his eyes, "Trust me, Eustass-ya, if I could shut it off it would be off already. And don't give me that look."

His glare only redoubled. "Well it sure's shit ain't me!"

Luffy bounced back up onto the bed and grabbed a hold of them both, only barely missing smacking their heads together. And of course, grinning like a fool. The uncoordinated piled of limbs and flailing that followed resulted in the Strawhat captain falling onto the bed between them laughing too hard to keep his grip, and Law looking even more disheveled than he already was. The look he gave the rubber man was priceless, a mixture of assaulted indignity and squashed arousal with just a pinch of incredulous humor. It made Luffy crack up harder when he saw it, pointing and holding his elastic ribs.

"Luffy!" The surgeon squeaked, color staining his face, neck and ears.

"Torao's so funny!!!" The Pirate King cackled, tears streaming down his face.

Even Kid's lips were twitching and he hauled Luffy into his lap, hoarding the little troublemaker away from Law because it looked like he was going to tie the boy into a knot around the bedpost. "He's gotta point, yer funny as hell when yer all pissy."

His nose twitched as he leaned in and stole a kiss, inhaling the scent of the recent sex and a strange, sweet odor he didn't recognize offhand.

"Not t'mention hot," he added in a deep rumble.

The rubber man settled happily into the redhead's embrace, still grinning unabashedly, even as Law tried to hide the fact that he enjoyed the kiss far more than he thought he probably should. Schooling his features, he cleared his throat and attempted to regain control of things. It wasn't easy, because he kept getting the bubbling feeling of Luffy's laughter leaking in from somewhere near his heart, and he _knew_ it wasn't his own sadistic amusement he felt at his own embarrassment. He coughed a second time before he finally was able to speak.

"It seems, according to my fathers, that we have struck a True Resonance. Though how that works with more than two people, I am uncertain. Hopefully your archaeologist will know more, Luffy, or perhaps we should see Doflamingo. Papi won't be up to having visitors yet, if he's even awake, but if no one else he would know what this is and what we do with it."

Kid snorted. "Well whatever it is, it can wait 'til morning. Pretty sure Pinky's still fussin' over the baby and I wouldn't get between him and that kid, not on my life. Not when he almost lost her an' yer dad both." He settled on his side, wriggling a little before letting go of Luffy to pull Law in. "He'll talk t'us in th'morning, I’m sure. Now you fuckin' get some sleep, god damn, or do I need to make your toes curl again first?"

"Ha. I believe it was your toes curling, Eustass-ya, not mine." The older brunet teased, relaxing onto the redhead’s chest.

"Shishishishishi." Luffy giggled, sprawling over them both again so that his chin rested on his arms, which were crossed over the bottom of Kid's chest. "Death has a way of playing Life before he knows he's being played."

Kid blinked, and it rang true in a way his sleepy mind couldn't dismiss, and it tugged at him. "What?"

"You're speaking of my epitaph, aren't you, Luffy-ya?" Law raised an eyebrow.

"Death," the Pirate King pointed at the surgeon, "plays with Life," his finger swung to the master of magnetism.

He blinked again.  "...how the fuck am I Life?? I spread destruction, chaos and death wherever I fucking go!"

Luffy just grinned.

After a moment, where it became clear that the youngest wasn't going to actually explain anything further, even how he knew these things in the first place, Law frowned, thinking about it. It made some sort of sick sense really. Life being indomitable and unyielding, spreading chaos wherever it grew, and it certainly wasn't nice most of the time. All of that and more ran through the eldest's mind, and he struggled with how to put it into words, only Luffy cut him off.

"Exactly!"

"Well then what are you, Rubberman? And how would that fit in with the life-and-death thingy? Resonance is all about fucking harmony ain't it?"

"Simple." Luffy flopped between them on his back with a giggle. "I'm forever!"

Kid tried to wrap his head around that, and failed. Forever... and that jived...? He turned to Law with a silent demand to explain.

"I assure you, Eustass-ya, I have no more comprehension about this than you do, and as our third seems to have fallen asleep, perhaps the question is better left for the morning when we are all more awake."

The glow among them was softer, dimming under the pressure of comfortable feelings and sleepiness. For once, Law felt as though he could actually drift off without the help of his usual go-to solutions. It was a novel concept, but one the surgeon fully intended to use to its fullest capacity. He actually hummed in contentment, curling his arm over Luffy to draw, coincidentally enough, the infinity symbol over the glow on Kid's chest.

Kid snorted. "Yeah. Sounds like a good idea..."

His hand slid to Law's hip, and his thumb rubbed a little idle shape, a swirling curve that looped over the glowing bone as his eyes drifted closed and the blanket came up to cover them, pulled by the metal rivets on its' edge that let it be used as a hammock at times.

The moon cast a cold light over the waters and islands of the New World. Most slept in peace and tranquility, an air of safety wrapping the innocent citizens in a blanket against the harsh reality that had been their world for so long. Pirates sang songs into the night air, celebrating their freedom, and Devil Fruit users who'd been imprisoned for simply eating the wrong thing at the wrong time finally had the chance to explore their new abilities, and discover their new weaknesses. On a remote island, one where the weather never changed, and the flowers bloomed forever, a solitary man who held the weight of the world on his shoulders, stood before a slab of stone with his eyes closed.

In his hands, he held a burnt orange hat, the string ornament fluttering in the breeze. He'd found it hidden away among the rubble after everyone else had left, and since the rest of the young man had blown away like the cinders of a campfire, he figured it was only right to place the hat back where it belonged. His subordinates had tried to argue, tried to tell him it was too dangerous, and that he shouldn't go himself, but they didn't understand, and he couldn't make them. He didn't even know if anyone else in the universe could understand, though he had his suspicions about certain sand and string users who'd been integral to the take down and healing of his predecessor. Still, it was a secret he carried, burdened across his shoulders even heavier than the knowledge that the world looked to him for guidance and justice.

Smoke curled up from the cigars in the corner of his mouth and he reached out to hang the hat where it belonged. He wasn't good with the words thing. In fact, he'd never tell anyone, but he felt he rather sucked at it, if he did say so himself. So, he shuffled his hands, tempted to pull his jacket closed so the one person who had followed him here wouldn't know, wouldn't see. But that would have been insulting to the reason the glow was there. It called, pulsing and stuttering with his own heartbeat, trying to find the answering rhythm, and the longer he stood there the more it ached, heavy with the knowledge that it would never have its answer.

He cleared his throat, the pollen had to be getting to him, drawing the ligaments tight and making his eyes water. "Damn, brat."

Tashigi stepped forward, reached to comfort her Captain- but drew back at the last moment, clutching her sword to her chest. She'd promised to give him his private mourning, but...

She knew, from Marine folklore, what that glow was, and it hurt her. It hurt her, for him, because there was nothing one could do when one’s Soul Mate was dead. And no matter if someone else, if a hundred more, people ate the same fruit, none would ever connect, none would ever evoke that glow out of Smoker's chest again.

She knew, in the way she knew her captain, he would never Resonate with anyone else.

He cleared his throat again, turning away, the glow fading almost immediately, "Let's go, Tashigi."

He marched with purpose and tension, his hands balled into fists, though he pretended not to notice, as he made his way back to their ship. Every time he came he swore it would be the last, and every time he swore, he could hear a laughing, mocking voice in his memory calling him out for the liar that he was, just as it had so many years ago when the firestarter had first shown up on the scene.

She yelped, hurrying to follow him- his heavy strides, as always, easily outpacing her. "Ahh! Yes, Captain! Where are we going next… G-5 Base for your things, to transfer to Marineford, or...?"

"Tashigi." He stopped her at the edge of the deck, the single word both an answer and a request, and the only clue he would give that coming to this place affected him.

She managed a sad, shaky smile. "Never you mind the details, Captain. I'll take care of it." She put her hand on his shoulder. "That's what your right hand is for."

He said nothing else, boarding the ship and making for his cabin immediately. One look at him and his subordinate had the crew scrambling to cast off, the rumors flying from person to person in Smoker's wake, though none spoke above a whisper about it. The ship slipped into the darkness beyond the shore.

High above the mournful island, tucked away in the clouds, the first train from the Blue Sea pulled into the station at Heaven’s Gate. It had traveled all night from Water 7’s main terminal, up the Sky Rail, to arrive just as the sun breached the clouds, cheerful and promising a new day.

"Here, Pheplome, watch your step." The young man's voice was bright, but nervous, as he and his adopted son stepped out onto the platform at the end of the Milky Road.

Exile. Of all the possible outcomes that could have happened after everything exploded, this was the last of Coby's expectations. He knew Luffy wouldn't kill him, but he hadn't allowed the marines to imprison him either. So the choice he'd been given was to travel with the Strawhats, essentially their prisoner to all of the outside world, or take Helmeppo's son to raise in a place where the people neither knew anything about what had happened in the Blue Sea, nor did they care as long as he didn't cause trouble. Under the rule of their first Goddess, Luffy had arranged for Coby and Pheplome to move into Gan Fall's old cottage. It wasn't much, but it was enough for both to live comfortably. It still surprised him that Luffy had been able to convince the others to allow him to leave, to even charter passage on the Puffing Flam, the first Sky Train ever built, and all only on the condition that he never return to the Blue Sea.

He drew a deep breath and smiled at the bright sunlight, his hair pulled back into the sort of tail his almost-lover wore. He was dressed simply, a shirt and pants, no jacket or insignia, not even his bandanna or glasses. The point was that if someone happened to know about him, he wouldn't be recognized. The boy matched him, and they held hands, the stuffed onion tucked under Pheplome's other arm, as they walked to the ticket window of the rebuilt Heavenly Gate.

The ticket lady there looked up and smiled when she saw them. "Hello, and welcome to the Sky Islands! Are you touring?"

Her antenna perked and her half-formed wings fluttered a little. Though business had picked up considerably since the construction of the train, it was still exciting to have anyone come up!

"Ah, no. We're, uh, we're moving up here." He fished the papers out of his pocket. "We don't have much just the clothes on our backs, a few vegetable seeds, and Phep's toy there."

The little boy looked up at the woman, blinked and took his thumb from his mouth. "You're weird."

"Pheplome!" Coby chided, and his son blinked at him, "That wasn't nice!"

She laughed. "It's quite alright. It's in the nature of children not to think before they speak, and if you're coming from... the Blue Seas," she read off the papers, quickly marking and filing, "I imagine I do look very strange. I can promise you'll get used to people like me soon."

She signed the last of the paperwork, filed it away, and took two tickets, one adult and one child, as well as a slip of inventory, to hand back to the man with his papers.

"I think you'll enjoy living here, sir. It's very peaceful, a wonderful place to retire to." She smiled again.

Pheplome was back to sucking on his thumb again, watching the man everyone told him was his father, and the weird lady with the puffballs on her head. He wondered when Mama was going to come to them, and allowed himself to be pulled along gently when Coby moved away from the window to the dial boat that would take them to their new home. He looked back at the woman and she waved to him, so he waved back, awkwardly and around the toy so he wouldn't have to take his thumb out of his mouth.

On the way, they attracted a crowd, but not a mob. As their boat passed, the residents of their new home recognized it as a local-travel boat instead of a tour ship, and quickly word of the new residents spread, drawing people from their tasks all over to walk along the paths the boat was taking, gathering to meet and welcome their new additions to the community. There was a murmur of chatter too, as everyone contemplated what they would be like, and how best to help them feel at home.

Disembarking onto Lovely Road, Pheplome hid behind Coby, peeking out wide-eyed at all of the new people. The pink-haired man smiled and tried to dismiss his son's fear, "They won't hurt you. Skypieans are friendly. Look, they want to meet you."

The tiny blond shook his head and hid his face in the fabric of his adopted father's pants.

There was some chuckling, quiet murmuring and smiling as parents looked at their own children, some shyly hiding, some eagerly peering, and then a young man, likely about twelve, stepped forward with a peculiar fruit held in his outstretched hands. It looked like a very odd cross between a watermelon and a banana, yellow with dark green stripes, and the shape of a massive banana.

This he presented with all the seriousness he could, smiling wide and showing the gap where he'd lost a tooth. "Welcome to Skypiea! I'm one of your neighbors!"

Pheplome yelped and jumped, but when there wasn't any other sound or an attack made or anything, he peered back out around Coby's legs. The grown up smiled, letting the two boys talk. The younger looked up and down and back up again, quickly pulling his thumb from his mouth in an attempt to look more grown up than he was. Then he clutched his toy and stepped forward, shaking like a leaf.

"Hi..." He looked up at Coby and the man nodded. "I'm Pheplome."

The boy's grin widened and his eyes sparkled, his antennae bobbing. "I'm Walker!" He bounced on the balls of his feet, then fumbled and had to scramble to keep from dropping the fruit, leaving him clutching it to his skinny chest and blushing. "Heh... um... want to have some banmelon with me?"

Again the blond looked up at his father, and again Coby nodded, "Just don't stray too far and come when I call."

"Okay!" Pheplome actually grinned like he'd been given the best gift ever and closed the distance between them in a blink, his onion toy forgotten at Coby's feet.

Walker's smile got brighter, if that was possible, and he happily nodded in the direction of his house.

"We're right next door! C'mon, I'll show you my trick for splitting these! They've got real tough skin, you know," he mock-whispered as he turned and started to jog lightly, making sure the other boy could keep up and still holding the banmelon to his chest so it didn't drop.

A peal of laughter trickled back from the pair and Coby watched them leave with a touch of bittersweetness to his smile. He squeezed the toy with a sigh, "We'll do alright, Helmeppo, don't you worry. I'll raise him right. I promise."


	27. Epilogues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And because we were worried that someone might not get that Croc came through the birth fine, have a couple of snippets of Magpie's first two years. ^_^

#### 1

Mags was a much-beloved little girl. Coddled, cuddled, held, sung to and rocked, she got all the attention she might ever need. There was, however, one thing and no matter how much they loved her, her fathers did not enjoy.

Diaper changing time.

Both of their noses wrinkled in unison, and Don saw Crocodile cringe away from the girl a bit. He huffed. "Alright, give her here."

"I can do it! I carried her!" Croc, still in female form, scowled, reaching for the babe.

"And you deserve a good long rest," he countered, his hand blocking hers. "You not only carried her, but damn near died birthing her. You deserve a long rest. A year. Or two even."

"Right, and let you feed her that swill of powdered crap Sanji keeps trying to shove down her throat! HA!" She bared her teeth, starting to growl.

"No, no no, I never said that," he was quick to protest, now moving bodily closer to the changing table as his fingers undid the current diaper while Mags squirmed uncomfortably. "I don't hold with that... formula stuff, you know that."

"Gods damn it all, Don, I just want to spend time with her!" She shifted to the other end of the table, pulling out the cream Chopper and Law had developed to protect her sensitive skin from rashes, and the powder that kept it from sticking to the cloth. "You and the rest of the Strawhats make off with her at every little turn, all I get to do is shove my tit in her mouth, and _that's_ when I can get her away from Sanji and his blasted barbarian!"

Don smiled sheepishly. "I… I know. We're all just... we love her, so much, you know?"

The dirty diaper was set aside in a can to be cleaned later, and Don took a few wipes to clean her little bottom gently.

"And I can't speak for them, but I just don't want you to have to worry about the little details like changing her and burping her and such. And other than that and sleep, she doesn't do anything else." He smiled crookedly. "But wouldn't you rather have her all fresh and clean to hold than all smelly and uncomfortable?"

"So ten months of carting her around and ruining absolutely everything about my physique AND reputation means she gets swept out of my arms as soon as she's out where I can actually hold her? Maybe I want to be part of that end too. Maybe I want to be messed on and have my suit ruined. It's not fair! She-she's my daughter first!" It was irrational, and she knew it, but it was like her mouth had run away with her. Her eyes went wide, and her hand covered her mouth, "I... that... I didn't mean that..."

Don powdered the little one after applying the cream and wrapped up the fresh nappy, then pinning it deftly and picking her back up. His strings weren't plucking distress notes, though, and he smiled at his beloved.

"No, you did. And you're right. She's your daughter even more than the rest of us; we love her and dote on her, but you shed blood for her before she was even born." He held her out, smiling a little more when the baby reached for the one she knew always had food. "Besides. She wants Papi."

"Tch, she knows where the food comes from, that's all." Croc took her and held her close, instinctively burying her nose in the curls of blonde at the base of the baby's neck, her mangled arm supported Mags' behind and her hand spread protectively across her back.

Don came up behind Croc and buried his face in her neck, right at the nape, arms encompassing lover and daughter both. "And she loves her Papi," he insisted with a little smirk.

This time the unsaid words almost made it; he'd taken another inhale and his tongue had curled to form the first syllable before he remembered it was not allowed, not ever, and his teeth closed so fast he nipped the tip of his tongue, leaving him to huff irritably at himself, the appendage lolling out.

"Does she now? And what of Papa, hm? Does she love him too?" The brunette smirked, balancing their child between her shoulder and her chin while she opened the buttons of her shirt.

He chuckled. "I have to assume so, she quiets when I rock her. But probably not as much as she loves Papi." His grip changed on habit, his laced fingers turning palm-up to support the baby while Croc's hand was busy.

"Hm, perhaps."

The tone was back, she could hear it through the Resonance, but still he tried to hide it. It irritated her, even as she shifted so that Mags get at one of her breasts. Latching on was never a problem, even with her sire attempting to fool her with silicone replacements, which left Croc free to think, a sort of peace clearing her mind for the duration of the feeding.

"I still think it has to do with food."

"Well that's why you're her FAVORITE," Don said reasonably, smirking into the side of her neck. "She _does_ know where the food comes from!"

He couldn't help the laugh, because it was funny. Everybody knew she loved her Papi best, because Papi fed her, but she liked Sanji and Zoro and Don almost all equally. Any one of them could pick her up and she would quiet, trusting them to make whatever it was better. It gave him a warm feeling down deep inside. She was loved, and she knew it.

A strange vibration passed through the sand that swirled on the edges of Time, but she busied herself with her child, wishing once more that she had both hands to touch and feel and know the entirety of this tiny creature she had created. The miracle of it all was enough to keep her mind busy, away from darker thoughts, and distracted enough to forget that she wasn't supposed to look the way she did. A perverse part of her mind wondered if the scar would stay when she returned to normal. Six months in and it was a puckered line just above her pelvis from hip to hip. The last thing she wanted in the world was to lose that mark, that proof that at one time this perfect little being had been tucked safely inside of herself. She supposed that was why it caused a scar at all, Law's ability being such that he was usually seamless post-op. Her desire for some permanent sign, as important as the others strewn about her body.

Don's hands often smoothed over it absently, petted it, especially when they lay down together to sleep since he tended to be rather clingy. One finger was rubbing back and forth over it now, just out of habit, as he rocked them both slowly from foot to foot while their daughter fed, still nuzzling her neck.

"Why, Mr. Doflamingo, I do believe you are up to something." Croc teased, her body reacting to the touches, drawing her out of her contemplation.

He chuckled, warm breath gusting over the skin behind her ear. "Do you now? And what might I be up to, Mr. Crocodile?"

She shivered, "At least wait until the _bambina_ is finished, you scoundrel."

Mags was slowing, almost drifted off as it was, though she still needed to be burped and placed in her crib, it didn't seem like the infant was going to make it through the other side. As soon as the suction was gone, Croc lifted her to her shoulder, her hand under the babe's behind, and her mangled wrist rubbing the tiny back. A light danced in her eyes though, tempting the large man to do something.

He snickered- and got a cloth for the baby's burp. After the first three ruined shirts, he'd sat down and crocheted about fifty of them.

Her dam handed her off, the argument from before forgotten, mellowed by the bonding of mother and child. Once Mags was safely on her Papa's shoulder, Croc pulled her shirt closed, though didn't re-do the buttons. On one hand she hated feedings like this because she felt lopsided, uneven and off balance, and burning with unfulfilled purpose, but on the other hand... She smiled promisingly, and her eyes darted to the door behind them that led to the bedroom Franky had gifted her upon her recovery.

Though Don did not stop gently patting the infant's back until she did burp, he returned that smile full of promise and his glasses glinted. Oh yes, he would happily fix that little problem for her once the _leibling_ was down for her nap!

* * *

#### 2

Luffy's laughter rang clear and bright over the lawn deck, "YOSH!"

Nami and Robin watched from their chairs, smiling that special kind of smile that woman always got around small children. To the side with Luffy, Usopp, Chopper and Franky were posing and dancing about, apparently as cheerleaders. Law and Kid, their respective boats docked just to either side of the Thousand Sunny, leaned against the railing on the opposite side of the deck. Zoro was balanced on his hand on the railing outside the galley, doing push-ups but maintaining his good eye on the happenings below him. Brook 'yohohoho'd across behind Crocodile, where she was kneeling in the grass, a distance of about ten feet between her and her beloved Don. Flitting about from group to group carrying drinks and trying to not appear like he was hovering over the proceedings was Sanji. And a second cheering squad took up the fourth corner of the deck and comprised of various members of the other three crews that had converged on Dressrosa.

While the events on board the Sunny were not what had drawn them originally, it was the current entertainment. Rumor had it today would be the day she did it, and not a one of her extremely extended adopted family could stand waiting. The only reason certain other fishmen and former marine vice admirals and pirate chefs weren't in attendance was because the eighteen month old pirate's Papi had declared enough! As it was with so many new, unfamiliar faces, Mags was clinging to Croc's shirt, trying to take in everyone at once.

Don was kneeling on the grass, and he whistled softly; he was pleased to see her head turn to him, blinking those pretty little eyes. He whistled a lot, but especially when he wanted her attention, and she'd come to recognize certain bird trills as those which warrant attention.

Once he had it, he smiled at her. "Look at me, baby. Papa's here, Mags. Will you come to Papa?"

"Agphbbbt." She cooed, bouncing with her hands wrapped around her Papi's hand and hook, the point carefully turned away.

"Go on, _Drillina_. Go to Papa." Croc rose to her knees holding her arms out.

Mags had been taking steps holding onto things, and did so easily now, but she had not yet let go, except to just stand there for a moment. She did that now, flailing her arms, accidentally letting go as she giggled and made more of those tongue and spit noises.

Don had to consciously stop his instinctive lurch forward to catch her, and keep his strings well away. It was okay for her to fall, he reminded himself. Even if he didn't want it to happen.

She wobbled and the entire deck caught its breath. Then she wobbled harder, and miraculously caught herself, one bootied foot forward, which had her off balance and made her lurch to the other side instinctively to catch herself again. Behind her, Croc shifted forward, entirely engrossed in her daughter, and murmuring in her native tongue words of encouragement.

Don's encouragements joined his lover's, both melodic and guttural tones blending in a steady hush of 'you can do it baby, go, keep moving' as Don held out his hands and grinned. "Come to Papa, Mags. You can do it. It's just a few more steps, baby."

One step became two became three and she over-balanced herself forward into his knees with a high-pitched giggle that was half cry of surprise.

He smiled, his voice gentle and sure as he closed his hands around her sides and checked she was okay from the fall, and she was, so he didn't fuss, like Croc had told him. "Look at that, baby! Look at that, you make it all the way to Papa! You walked to me!"

She squealed with joy again and Luffy whooped with her, the cheering squads striking up a thunderous noise of happy congratulations. Sanji stopped behind Croc, and put his hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see him smiling, a touch of sadness in his eyes because he knew they had to leave without really getting to spend much time with her. But such was the fate of the crew under the Pirate King. Don couldn't leave Dressrosa for long or run the risk of losing his position there, and so it meant no matter who Croc chose to stay with, half of Mags' family would be left behind. Time was drawing short for celebrations, and taking the easy road. The world still needed to be reshaped, and already there were pirates who wanted nothing more than to challenge Luffy for his title. So Croc put her hand over Sanji's, a small squeeze conveying that she knew exactly what he was feeling.


End file.
